The True Master of Death
by NinjaGin87
Summary: Harry sacrificed himself in the fight against Voldemort, but this isn't the first time his destiny has claimed his life. However, this time he's the master of the Hallows. What happens when a new chance is interfered with by ancient powers? AU, H/Hr.
1. Prologue: Death and Life

Disclsimer - I do not own Harry Potter

AN -This is the new and vastly improved in my opinion BETA APPOVED first chapter of TMoD! Many thanks to MarvelousMarvel and the mastermind behind the editing and kickass writer BenignViewer!

~TTMoD~

Harry Potter faced Lord Voldemort, and as he stared at the intensely inquisitive eyes of his lifelong antagonist he felt a calm and nearly unnatural sense of peace. The jeers, screams and roars of the Death Eaters and their followers were reaching a fevered pitch, and somehow the two fated by prophesy stood amongst it and were at once apart from it.

Voldemort raised the Elder Wand, and Harry could inexplicably feel the power inside of it. He fleetingly thought of his family, who he was sure still waited, unseen around him; ready to take him when he left the world. He made no move for his own wand. He wanted to protect the others, the same way that his mother had protected him. Ginny, George, Arthur and Molly, Ron, Hermione, the professors, the students, and the innocent people of the world, muggle and wizarding alike, who suffered at Voldemort's behest. He would leave them all beyond Voldemort's touch.

He knew it was time and he whispered, even as Voldemort uttered the killing curse, "I'm sorry everyone." He saw the flash of green draw ever nearer and spread his arms wide as if shielding someone or something behind him. It was not so far from the truth. Harry Potter was struck in the chest, and fell backwards, a small smile gracing his lips. He was dead before he hit the ground.

~TTMoD~

He was adrift. He allowed sensations to wash through him until he realized that he was feeling, thus he had a body. Almost instantly he felt himself lying on his back on what felt like warm grass. Realizing he had a body he became curious of his surroundings. Upon taking a deep, slow breath he realized that he could smell wet earth, grass, and something he didn't recognize immediately. Reasoning that if he could smell he should also be able to see, he opened his eyes. He saw a star strewn sky above him, the light of the millions of stars brighter and far more vivid in the rich velvet sky. He lay there in awe for some time, watching the night as he had never seen it before as a pale green aurora lit up and danced across the heavens. He was entranced until he heard running water. In surprise he sat up and found himself facing a wide river. The river rushed and flowed and at places was still and tranquil as stones split the raging waters to create small clear patches in the white-water currents.

He watched the gushing and enthralling power of the river for a few moments, or maybe ages, before realizing that before him and slightly to the right was a bridge. He knew that this bridge was unnatural; it seemed to grow from the bank without any support and the wood looked immensely aged, yet it spanned the waters and their fury without swaying or sign of rot. He saw no signs of any kind of mounting. _This bridge was made by magic._

As he – Harry, his name was – contemplated all of this, his memories returned in full. Scenes of his life swam before him; the abuse at the hands of his uncle and cousin, the indifferent treatment from his aunt, the cruelty and shunning his schoolmates, the teachers and neighbours all believing him to be a hooligan or ruffian. Then came Hogwarts; his first friends, his trials year after year – where he was branded a saviour or a sinner in the eyes of others – either the newest Dark Lord or the Chosen One to bring everlasting peace.

Harry grew ever more introspective as he relived Dumbledore's death, the murder of Severus Snape, and his own ultimate demise.

He found himself crying as he saw in his mind the friends he left behind: Ron, fickle at times but there in a pinch. He frowned slightly and adjusted the thought. Ron was not there at the darkest times. He had not been his friend as much when the chamber opened, even when he went after Hermione to warn her of the troll he hesitated. The silent tears leaking down his face slowed as he brightened slightly at the thought of his first true friend. Hermione had stood by him always. Yes she had disapproved of his using Snape's old potion book, but her thoughts had been vindicated by the _sectumsempra_ spell he had used from it.

Harry watched in his mind as a small bushy haired girl led a pudgy boy into their compartment on the train first year, watched as she eagerly jammed the sorting hat on her head in the Great Hall of Hogwarts.

He watched her cower while a raven haired boy smaller than her leaped recklessly onto a troll to distract it from her. Watched that same girl and boy hug, before she dashed through a portal of purple fire even as the boy faced the black flames that would lead to Voldemort.

He watched her as she lay immobile and frozen in time, prone on a bed in the hospital wing. The small boy from before was there, holding her hand and speaking gently to her.

Watched them ride a hippogriff with an alleged mass murderer from the astronomy tower under a midnight sky.

Watched them studying together and her tireless efforts to save him in the tournament he was forced to compete in.

He again watched her fall with a look of surprise as a bolt of purple fire struck her. Felt his own relief anew when the now older, and less pudgy, boy from the train, told him she still had a pulse.

He saw her scowling at the book that the black haired teenager clutched like his own child.

Saw her crying in a tent as her heart broke.

Saw her kissing Ron. He felt a sudden pang of something… indescribable.

Watched them holding hands while he, invisible, crept away to do what only he could do; die at the hands of Tom Riddle. To make him mortal once more, or escape the happiness that was never his?

He sighed as he looked at the old bridge again and was startled to see four cloaked and hooded figures. Unsure what to do he stepped forward, one of them called out. "Hold, young one."

He froze in mid step, but slowly faced the speaker. He knew that they were not enemies. He couldn't say why, but he knew, almost instinctively, that he was _supposed_ to meet them here.

The speaker was the largest of the four and continued in a deep, hoarse, voice "Ye who are the true owner of the Wand of Destiny, Bringer of Death, I ask of thee this: Would ye choose vengeance or justice?"

Harry thought but a moment before he answered, "Justice." in a carrying voice over the sounds of the river.

The hooded figure nodded once and stepped back as second figure, thinner and smaller than the first, stepped forward, "Ye who are the true owner of the Stone of Resurrection, Reverser of Death, I ask of thee this: Would ye choose past or present?"

Harry felt confused. Past or present? He thought honestly and chose the one thing that he knew in his heart was best for everyone, "Present." His voice seemed to come from a great distance this time as the man nodded and stepped back.

A third stepped forward and said in a strong, pleasant voice, "Ye who are the true holder of the Cloak of Invisibility, Shadow of Death, I ask of thee this: Would ye choose to cower or fight?"

Harry had come to realize that each had questioned him on a different value of the object, but even son he realized his use of the cloak was both: to avoid the Death Eaters and to end the threat they and their leader posed. With these thoughts he spoke, "To Fight." and his voice was becoming stronger.

The third figure nodded as it backed away to be replaced by a tall, thin being that spoke in a higher and emotionless monotone, "Ye who hold Death's Hallows, master of Death, I ask thee this: Would ye lord thyself as Death's Conqueror or would ye accept Death's Judgment?"

The cold voice sent a thrill of terror through his body, but he knew that the dead – and Harry was sure that he was dead now – belonged to Death, and thus replied "I submit to Death, as a true master of Death must, and accept Death's Judgment."

The last figure nodded but remained as the other three faded from sight back across the bridge. Harry watched with no fear, only understanding and acceptance as the figure drew back its hood, revealing a handsome and yet terrible visage. Alabaster skin and high cheekbones with flowing black hair, offset by the terrifying, deep-set, eyes as black as a starless and moonless night. The thin mouth was fixed in a half smirk as he rested his gaze upon the one on whom he was to cast judgment. Harry faced Death as an equal, and Death nodded as he raised his hand and chanted in a strange and dark sounding language for a few moments before Harry was enveloped in brilliant white light that washed away the scene they had been in moments before.

Now Harry and Death stood facing each other in a sea of white. The walls and floor and ceiling were all white. Death spoke in the flat voice once more. "You have died before now, Harry. This is in fact the sixth time you have died." Harry was struck dumb by the pronouncement, but Death continued, "Shall I tell you how you died child?" Harry nodded mutely, still unable to comprehend his unfortunate circumstance.

Death gave him a slight smile, but it only highlighted his inhuman nature. "The first time you died when your relatives decided to beat the magic out of you. Your uncle grew so enraged as he watched you recover from broken bones and lashings that had bled the night before, as though they were scratches that one night he took it too far and used a tire iron... on your head. You were five and just showing the first signs of magical aptitude."

Harry, who had made his peace with his alleged family, felt betrayed and hurt all over again. How could they kill him? And over him having magic? He almost missed the next part of his story.

"Your second death was during the first year of Hogwarts. Halloween, the troll managed to swing at Hermione Granger and you dove to push her out of the way. Well, I am sure you can imagine the result of diving into the path of a half-tonne club."

Harry was slightly mollified by this death and knew that if the situation had turned out that way he would have died happy. He gulped at the thought of what that could have done to his future best friends mentally, and was glad they had all survived the encounter, to his memory.

"Thirdly; in your second year. You should know that basilisk venom has but one cure. That time around Fawkes was too late to help you and you perished."

The idea that Lord Voldemort would have been reborn from that encounter sent a thrill of terror through him. It seemed he was thinking faster however, and he was noticing a pattern to his past lives and their deaths, but he had to hear the last two to be sure of the conclusion he was drawing.

"Fourthly was Triwizard Tournament. You were able to summon your Firebolt, but when the dragon realized you took the egg from her nest the handlers couldn't get there in time and she roasted you like a pig on a spit."

The sudden mental image of him with a red apple in his mouth, his limbs wrapped around a blackened broomstick made him simultaneously want to laugh and be sick. He ended up feeling moderately queasy and watched Death as he spoke.

"The final death was at the hands of one you called friend. Ronald Weasley. Seeing your closeness with Hermione in your sixth year caused him to become insanely jealous. He had gotten involved with Lavender Brown to make Hermione Granger see him as someone desirable. When he caught the two of you alone in a classroom talking he misunderstood and fired a Reductor Curse at your, ah, bits I believe is the popular term?" He smiled a touch wider at Harry's horror-stricken face, "When she tried to help you, he hit her with an Impediment Jinx and told her to watch you die because she refused to acknowledge his feelings. They watched you bleed out. In Granger's defence she cried and tried to help you, but he had her disarmed and immobilized."

Harry felt appalled. Even though he knew he was dead he dropped to his knees and heaved. For several minutes the only sounds were his retching as he tried to reconcile his best friend with the monster who murdered to break a girl's will and make her his. Harry recovered enough to connect the dots mentally, but he was still too ill to raise his point with the Lord of the Dead. He realized that he had bested Voldemort on his own every time and he had only died as a result of others actions beyond what the prophecy dictated. He realized why he kept reviving and subconsciously knew that he was dead for good this time. Voldemort was mortal once more.

"You have a choice to make. Before, Fate and Prophecy were bringing you back and guiding you upon each of your returns. Now, however, you are the true master of Death. You have my blessing as well and that is no small thing, young one. "You may be aware that seven is the most powerfully magical number, although I cannot tell you why, this does open new options to you after your past lives. Add the power of three also, another magically powerful number, and you will be capable of things greater than any… you, before you." Harry could practically feel Death smirk.

Harry stared blankly at, for lack of a better word, _him_ for a moment as he marshalled his thoughts. Slowly, he stood and wiped his mouth on his sleeve before saying "So, er, Death, I have died five times already," He winced slightly but pressed on, "But because of the prophecy - my fate - I have returned me to life each time?" The figure bowed its head in acknowledgment. "But not you, you have had no say in my life, or death?"

Death smiled," I have worked in your life as well young one. I have claimed those you love through manipulations of fate and circumstance."

This caused Harry to frown as he said, "Can you speak plainly please?"

Death smile turned to a smirk, "I am afraid that you must choose your path now, for time has grown short. Will you return to life, and if so, when shall you return?"

Harry realized why in a jolt. "You can't adjust fate, but you can send me back with something fate can't?" The question was really an exclamation despite how Harry phrased it.

He watched the Death's face and saw him nod approvingly. "If I return you to the past, it will be with the power of seven and three forces beyond time and life – my hallows. I will use that to fuse the power of your seven lives together. When you return, you shall wield the greatest magicks."

Harry considered what was being said and what wasn't. His years of knowing Albus Dumbledore had ensured that he recognized where reading between the lines was necessary, and taught him all the tricks that came along with it. Combined with his new celerity in contemplation he concluded aloud, "I'll have power beyond my ability control. I would need to start over to learn that control."

Death grinned. He liked this one, and perhaps this could get Love off his back as well. "Harry James Potter, I ask you this: shall you return?"

Harry took a deep breath and said, "Send me back to my eleventh birthday, if you would. I will need the chance to prepare. But before I go, two questions: will I remember anything?"

Death looked hard at the young man before him and said "You will not. But fret not; you shall be unfettered as well. That's the best answer I can give for your first question, now, your second?"

Harry pressed his hand to his scar and said in a quiet voice, "You have cleansed the piece of Tom Riddle from my head, haven't you?"

Death gave him a feral grin, one that made his face look almost skeletal. "In this, probably your last after my interference, return to life, you will have the full protection that should have been yours." Harry had no time to express his confusion as the world faded to black and he once again felt nothing.


	2. A New Beginning

Harry Potter lay on a cold wooden floor in the living room of a small, ramshackle building - allegedly a house - and watched the lighted dial of his cousin's watch tick in time to the rock foundation of the shack getting repeatedly battered by the stormy sea outside. Harry and his relatives were currently holed up on a small island somewhere just off the English coast, he knew nothing about where he was beyond that.

He briefly hoped that the writer of the mysterious letters that had made his relatives run from Privet Drive would know where he was, although he wondered for the first time since he saw the letters, just why his aunt and uncle were so terrified of him reading the letter. In their efforts they had even refused their treasured son Dudley; his decidedly pig-like (in all ways a person could be, short of sprouting a curly tail) cousin, who could normally get away with murder in their eyes, and even expect his parents' assistance.

Harry realized he had been so caught up in his frustration over not getting any of the letters sent to him, that he hadn't really wondered what his relatives were thinking about through all of it. He could tell from their mad rush around the countryside that his uncle was trying to protect everyone - sans himself, obviously - by hiding them away. For his uncle, who was usually so full of bluster, to flee from his home Harry realized that the letter writer must have some kind of dangerous information that his uncle didn't want him privy to. He was suddenly less certain about wanting the mysterious writer to find him.

With his thoughts getting him nowhere he turned his attention back to watching his cousin's watch display counting down to his birthday.

Thirty seconds longer and he would be eleven. There seemed to be a lot of noise outside, the storm must be kicking up something fierce.

Twenty seconds. Was the roof creaking that way? Maybe if it fell on them they would finally be able to get warmer.

Ten, nine, eight seconds to go; maybe he would wake Dudley to annoy him.

Now three.

Two.

One.

BOOM!

Harry sat bolt upright, forgetting it was his birthday in the shock of hearing someone banging on the door.

BOOM! It happened again.

Dudley sat up and asked drowsily, "Where's the canon?"

Harry didn't bother answering the foolish question as his uncle and aunt appeared in there robes and pyjamas, his uncle wielding a long rifle.

"Who is it? I warn you; I'm armed!" Vernon Dursley bellowed at the door.

No one answered.

~TTMoD~

The short silence ensued before the door was struck so hard the hinges broke from the wall, causing the cold sea air to blow through unchecked and the floor to get soaked. That, however, went unnoticed as the largest man they had ever seen walked through the doorway, bowed to fit inside.

He spotted the cowering Dursley adults and the stunned boys before turning to the fallen door and picking it up as though it were a playing card. "Whoops!, Sorry 'bout that." He said as he fitted the broken door back into place. "You wouldn't happen ta have tea ready, would ya? Only it's been a difficult journey." He asked.

The giant turned back to see the Dursley's all cowering now; a rotund boy and thin woman hiding behind a corpulent man with a rifle. He regarded them with a mixture of amusement and bewilderment.

~TTMoD~

As the giant of a man stood watching the Dursley's, Harry got a good look at him for the first time.

He was easily twice as tall as his uncle and wider by over that. He seemed to have wild, tangled black hair and a very bramble like beard that nearly obscured his entire face. Yet his black eyes showed warmth and kindness, and Harry relaxed slightly.

"You are breaking and entering! I demand you leave at once!" Vernon barked from across the small living room.

One thick eyebrow rose as the man said "Dry up Dursley, ya great prune." He then snatched the rifle and with few twists he tossed a useless pretzel shaped lump of metal and splintered wood into the opposite corner. He turned to Harry at last. "An' here's Harry. Last I saw you, you was jus' a baby, Harry. Come here an' let's have a look at ya."

Harry tensed after watching that last display of strength from the giant newcomer, but the warmth in his eyes coupled with the fact he knew him when he was an infant, before the Dursley's, made him step forward. He said in a quiet voice, trying to sound much braver than he felt, "Um, not to be rude sir, but who are you?"

The large man gave a deep chuckle, "Forgive meh manners, I haven't introduced myself. Name's Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. You'll know all 'bout Hogwarts o' course." But Hagrid was distracted from saying more when he got a good look in turn at Harry's appearance.

Harry was wearing cast-offs from Dudley, extremely loose fitting pants rolled up several times so he could walk in them with a huge belt wrapped three times around his narrow waist. The shirt he was wearing was a short sleeve shirt he appeared to be swimming in it was so loose. There were holes in the pants and shirt where they had been worn through and his glasses and shoes were taped together. Altogether it made Hagrid's searching eyes darken very suddenly.

Hagrid tensed for a second before he rounded on Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia with a yell. "What the ruddy hell are ya playin' at!"

While Petunia cowered further, Vernon Dursley was by no means an easy man to intimidate, and he was standing tall with a sneer on his face as he answered, "What the blazes are you on about? He has clothes on his back and eats our food and gives nothing in return. He should be grateful, the little freak!"

This was apparently a poor choice in wording. Hagrid growled and whirled back to Harry with such an intense scowl that Harry involuntarily stepped back.

Hagrid asked between clenched teeth, "Harry, does this lot," he jerked his thumb over at the Dursley's, "treat you proper?"

Harry quickly moved to 'defend' his family. He'd learned that this Hagrid knew his family and maybe he knew of a distant relative or maybe even a friend of his parents he could go live with. Besides, the shade of purple on his uncle's face was probably not healthy, for either him or Uncle Vernon. He answered quickly, before Vernon could intervene, "They treat me all right. I've even got my own room now..."

Hagrid frowned, his forehead furrowing as he thought carefully before he answered, "What do yer mean: 'now'? Where did yer sleep before?"

The slow speech and carefully phrased questioned seemed to have been missed by Harry completely as he replied, "In the cupboard under the stairs Mr Hagrid. Dudley needed the second room for his toys and stuff."

Hagrid looked over at Vernon and Petunia Dursley in disgust. Harry realized that perhaps he had pushed to far (judging by the old porridge colour in his uncle's face and the rising crimson in Hagrid's) so he hastened to redirect the conversation. "Sir, what is Hogwarts? You mentioned it earlier but I am afraid I don't know what that is."

Hagrid finally looked at Harry, his anger being replaced by confusion. "Yer don' know about Hogwarts? But... where d'ya think yer parents learned it all?"

Now Harry was truly confused. His parents? What did his parents have to do with this large man?

Vernon, mustering his courage, called over at them, "STOP! I FORBID YOU TO TELL THAT BOY ANYTHING!"

Harry flinched slightly, almost cowering at the tone and pure anger in his uncle's voice.

Hagrid hadn't noticed Harry's reaction, and answered Vernon with equal venom, "Do you mean to tell me," Hagrid spoke quietly, but enunciating very carefully, "That Harry Potter doesn't know who he is? Who his parents were? His own ruddy story? Dursley I hope you can explain this, because I have half a mind to bring yer up on charges before tha entire Wizengamot and see if we can get yer chucked inna Azkaban!"

At this Petunia blanched and tugged Vernon back before saying, "Look, we didn't want the boy! He turns up on pout door step with a letter in a basket and we are just supposed to take care of him? House him and feed him and send him to school? What about our family's needs? What about our son? Should we just abandon our lives because my dratted sister decided to go off to some freak school, married some low life from there, and then got blown up?" His aunt had grown steadily angrier as she asked the questions, practically screaming her last at him as she tried to get ten years of frustration off her heart.

Never had Harry heard any of this, not with his relatives 'ask no questions, get no beatings' policy. He shook in fury as he spoke up. "Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash?"

Hagrid finally seemed to have his fill. "Harry, yer comin' with me. We need ter make a few stops along the way before I get you to the Headmaster. Albus Dumbledo-"

"WE WILL NOT BE PAYING FOR HIM TO ATTEND SOME SCHOOL FOR WEIRDOS AND DELINQUENTS WHERE SOME CRACKPOT WILL TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!"

Hagrid whirled around, drawing from his overcoat a battered pink umbrella. "Never. Insult. Albus. Dumbledore. In. Front. Of. Me." He punctuated each word with a thrust of his umbrella and at the end flourished it, launching a violet light that struck Dudley in the bottom, which was far too large to hide behind his bony mother.

Dudley squealed in a high pitched voice, his ham-like hands clamped over his bottom where a curly pig's tail poked through the seat of his trousers.

With a roar Vernon pulled his family into the adjoining room and slammed the door, leaving his nephew to the tender mercies of Hagrid.

The enraged half-giant calmed slightly as he stared at the door, still taking great snorting breaths through his nose to help with his anger. "Harry, if there's anythin' you want to know, jus' ask an' I'll try to explain best I can. I think it'll be better before we go ter get this sorted out."

Harry sank onto the sofa, and Hagrid followed suit. Harry shivered lightly and Hagrid pointed his umbrella at the fireplace. A moment later a roaring fire filled the living room with warmth and Harry looked shocked at the umbrella for a moment before he said," Why don't we start with that Mr Hagrid? How are you doing these things?" He gestured to the fireplace and then pointed at the door the Dursley's fled through.

"Magic Harry," Hagrid's eyebrows furrowed, and he seemed to contemplate his answer slightly. "Yer really don' know about our world Harry? Yer parents world?"

Harry slumped slightly, speaking in a near whisper, "No sir. I don't know anything about my parents except that Uncle Vernon says my dad was a layabout and my mother was no better."

Hagrid frowned and his eyes seemed to grow warmer as he spoke kindly to Harry, "It's not true. Not a word of it, ya hear me Harry? Yer folks were good people, working hard to save the lives of everyone."

Harry looked up, eagerness etched on his every feature, hope sparkling in his eyes, "Sir-"

"Hagrid. Call me Hagrid, Harry."

Harry nodded, "All right Hagrid, did you know, I mean, is there anyone that might take me in? I can't stand staying here, with them. They... they hate me Hagrid."

A large hand descended and with surprising gentleness rest atop his head. "You don' worry 'bout nothing Harry. I'm gonna talk ta Dumbledore about getting you away from these people. Great man, Dumbledore. Why he's the one tha' let me work at Hogwarts." He suddenly palmed his forehead with his dustbin lid hand. "Almos' forgot." And he pulled from a pocket a living, if slightly ruffled, owl and a piece of parchment and a quill.

_"Dear Professor Dumbledore... I need yer help...with Harry...Problem with his relatives... please meet us at the Leaky Cauldron in a couple hours. Weather's horrible...Hagrid."_

He handed the owl the letter, and the bird clamped hold of it in its beak. Hagrid stood, walked to the door and stepped outside before pitching the bird into the storm.  
As he returned he saw Harry's stunned look and chuckled, "Looks like I have lots ter teach ya on the way to London. Let's take a quick kip, then we'll celebrate yer birthday proper-like."


	3. Revelations

AN – I wanted to move this to the top as I have a very excellent reviewer bring up an interesting point I wanted to address. An anonymous reviewer let me know that it seemed ridiculous for Death itself to return Harry to life seeing as he died six times previously. If he had retained knowledge of the future events then maybe it would work out better. I will say this in reply: be patient. I have a method to the madness and my reasons will be made clear. I would explain fully but it is a plot point and beg you wait and see. You made an excellent point and I guarantee that this will be clarified down the line. Thanks to all my reviewers and all the alerts and favs. You guys rock!

Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore was many things: Headmaster of the most prestigious school of magic in all of Britain, Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot, Chief Warlock of the International Confederation of Wizards, and a Grand Sorcerer, though few knew what that meant other than "it sounds wicked on the frog cards." He had been the leader behind reforms for the often repressed muggleborn witches and wizards throughout the world, the voice of sense and reason, the authority of a near century and a half of wisdom allowing him to make better decisions than many of his fellows magistrates in the Wizengamot, and he was also a great lover of justice and peace. So when a small owl flew through his open window late at night (or perhaps early this morning) while he was catching up on some of the current proposals trying to get approval from the Wizengamot, he set his parchment to the side. He recognized the school owl as one that Hagrid had taken with him. The large man, bless him, had a heart of gold. He had sent Hagrid because he had hoped that Harry might be less intimidated. He had been told that his gaze had made a number of students feel as though they were being examined to the depths of their very souls.

Sighing slightly at the time he turned to a beautiful scarlet and gold swan-like bird on a perch near the window and said,"My dear Fawkes, would you be so kind as to help me with travel arrangements in a moment? I fear Hagrid may need my assistance." The beautiful bird trilled a soft note that seemed to hold concern and nodded his head. Dumbledore turned to the owl, its' feather all rumpled from the journey to the castle and said gently,"You have done admirably, thank you. I believe the owlery will have food and drink my weary traveler." The owl gave a weary hoot and departed. Dumbledore shook open the letter and adjusted his half-moon spectacles to allow him to better read Hagrid's untidy scrawl.

As he got further down the short note he began to grow ill at ease. It was after all he who had sent the poor orphaned Harry to his relatives. He had erected immensely powerful wards based on the love and sacrifice of Lily Evans-Potter, and her sister and nephew carried the same blood in their veins. He had not had the time to personally speak to the Dursley family, but Minerva's report had made him uncomfortable. The boy was a living legend, and he was destined for far greater things. Perhaps he should have a direct hand in guiding Harry? This was the fate of the entire world at stake here, and he was aging. Time would eventually do what neither Gellert or Tom had managed, and he needed to ensure his knowledge base was passed on to the next generation. For he knew many types of magic, and would that not give Harry "power the Dark Lord know not" just in case Love wasn't entirely the answer? He had to have contingency plans. He felt himself slipping from the here and now as he sank into deep thought. If the boy were taken as an apprentice during the summer months... but the apprentice program was usually only for graduates or those of immense power and skill. He had apprenticed to Nicholas Flamel himself after Arianna had died.

Perhaps, if during their time together this morning he showed promise, he would consider it. Olivander would be a good judge of his baseline ability for this, as a powerful wizard will draw a powerful wand's allegiance. Yes, and in seeing the boy he will be able to tell just how bad he had erred when he had left the poor child there alone. He would need to keep an eye on his demeanor and his mindset. He had to be careful he had not just set up the world for another Lord Voldemort by allowing their savior to be abused. Granted he had not read it in the words of the letter, no it was the angry crossing outs and the slightly messier than usual look to Hagrid's letter that tipped him off to the true nature of the Gamekeeper's letter. Harry was neglected at best, and it was his own failing. The blood wards were safe, but if he were learning about the wizarding world from Albus Dumbledore and not, say Lucius Malfoy, than there may be an over all better chance for him down the road. Though if the power is love, perhaps this would require a different approach.

Seeing the two options before him he made a decision: Harry would have to come stay at the Leaky Cauldron for now. There was a month before term started and then he could take the train with everyone else. He needed friends his own age, needed to be a child. He was only eleven after all, and if the boy could find friendship and love, learn their importance, then he would be worthy of the apprenticeship. But the entire summer wouldn't be directed to that alone. He would also spend time with his friends. The Weaslely family had a boy coming to Hogwarts and they had always been great achievers in their own ways, maybe with a good study habit Harry would benefit from. He wouldn't interefere though, he had already made a few too many errors where this was concerned and he didn't know either boy as of yet. He needed to gather his information, the poor boy needed help and he needed to sleep.

Scene Break

Harry woke slowly, Hagrid's large coat warmer than his blanket at the Dursley's. He savored the feelings of happiness and hope that had blossomed in the night as Hagrid had told him parents had been good people and that he would be allowed to ask questions today. The young wizard proceeded to get an understanding of what happened to him and what wizard currency was and the difference between it and muggle money (apparently all wizards used the Knut, Sickle, Galleon whereas every muggle nation had a different currency). He was excited to meet this Dumbledore person, Hagrid said he was an amazing man. As they approached a ramshackle and grubby looking pub Hagrid stopped and said genially," 'Ere we are Harry, Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place yer know." Harry privately wondered how such a famous place could be so... Unclean. He nodded though and allowed his large friend to steer him through into the little pub. There was a smattering of conversation and a wizened old man at the bar that reminded Harry of a walnut greeted Hagrid with a jovial wave," The usual, Hagrid?"

Hagrid beamed at the friendly face," Sorry Tom, not jus' now. 'Ave yer seen Professor Dumbledore?" Tom opened his mouth to speak, but a pleasant voice sounded from behind Hagrid," I am afraid that Tom had no chance to see me as of yet. I have, after all, only arrived myself dear man."

Harry, being the closer of the two to the source of the voice, whirled around as Hagrid said,"Ah, there yer are Professor Dumbledore, sir." Harry's first impression was that Albus Dumbledore had an impressive image of a classic wizard. He took in the long flowing pale blue robes with matching pointed hat, some high heeled black leather boots with buckles made of what appeared to be gold. His long snowy beard and hair framed a kindly face, vivid blue eyes behind half-moon glasses that appeared to twinkle in amusement at having surprised his friend. Harry felt almost insignificantly small next to a man who was according to Hagrid the greatest wizard alive.

Those piercing blue eyes locked with Harry's and the warmth in them seemed to vanish instantly to be replaced by a looked of shocked outrage. The entire thing happened in a fraction of a second, yet Harry found he could perfectly recall the entire play of emotion an expression: the widening of the eyes, the raised eyebrows, the slight flare of the nostril. With a start Harry realized that he could remember everything that had happened since Hagrid's arrival with clarity and detail that was slightly disconcerting. Dumbledore spoke again, in the same genial, happy tone,"Well Tom, if you have a room to spare Hagrid and myself have a few very important matters to discuss and would prefer a bit of privacy."

Tom gave a nod and gestured with a wave of his hand to a man in the kitchen,"Ben, keep an eye on the bar for a bit." He proceeded to lead the two adult wizards, who were discreetly shielding Harry from view by unspoken agreement, to a small room off to right at the end of the ground floor hall. It was a comfortable room, if slightly cramped for the large Hagrid. As soon as Tom bowed himself from the room with a toothless grin Dumbldore drew his wand and hace it a flick as if to remove a bothersome insect from it. Instantly a chair expanded behind Hagrid until it looked like a small love seat. "Come now my dear boy," he turned a sad eye onto Harry, who was watching Hagrid sit on the now strengthenes and expanded chair with an air of immense awe. Recognizing that he was subject of some scrutiny, Hagrid chuckled and said,"Yeh'll ketch flies if yer mouth stays open any longer, Harry."

As Harry flushed a faint shade of red and sat down on a straight backed wooden chair, Dumbledore looked at the obviously underfed and ragged body. The holes in his clothes showed Albus far more than they had Hagrid after his cursory inspection. He saw a few ribs through a frayed seam many would miss. He saw the telltale signs of formerly broken fingers, and a few scars litteres the boy's arms when he adjusted himself on the chair and his sleeve slid up. Albus said gently, but with a strangely hard glint in the now cool blue eyes,"What happwned Hagrid?"

The large man growled out the story, how the Dursley's treated Harry, finding him in rags, the reactions of Vernon and Petunia to his visit and Harry. He didn't mention cursing the boy's cousin, nor did he mention the look of hope he had seen on Harry's face at the thought of leaving them permanently. Throughout the story Harry would watch one or the other's face, but when he remembered the tone in his uncle's voice he had looked at the ground to hide his fear. He didn't want Vernon to get angry and come after him later. The last beating had left him in the cupboard for days while he recovered. He flinched when the cupboard was brought back up,"They had Harry sleeping in a cupboard until his letter came Professor! A RUDDY CUPBOARD!" Harry shifted uneasily. He heard a heavy sigh from Dumbledore as Hagrid took a deep breath. "Harry?"

"I want to use a spell to let me see your memories. The problem is that you will remember them as well. Will you grant me permission for this Harry?" The kindness and sorrow in the old man's voice has Harry looking at him despite his shame, suddenly incredibly aware of his freakishness. It was his fault he was locked away, his weirdness was why his relatives had to treat him that way. Sure he had made certain Hagrid found out about his room, but he had hoped maybe he would have called the police. Realizing that this man Dumbledore was hia laat chance at that happening he nodded slowly.

Albus had expected many things from Harry Potter, but the turmoil on his face as he considered made the passive legilimency almost useless. He could Harry was resigning himself to a fate of hatred, neglect, and how it was all his own fault. When Harry nodded Albus raised his wand and pointed it at Harry, who didn't flinch as Dumbledore said clearly,"_Legilimens._"

A few moments passed before Harru paled and started shaking. Hagrid looked on in concern as Harry gripped the wooden arms of the chair until his knuckles turned deathly white. Albus seemed intensely focused, so Hagrid didn't dare interfere while they performed the mind viewing spell. Hagrid set his large hand very gently on Harry's entire arm, but recoiled as Harry fliched away. Merlin, it must be worse than they thought. When the aged wizard broke away from Harry and lowered his wand he calmy pocketed it before throwing his beard over his shoulder and marching to the waste bin. A moment later the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot, and Chief Warlock of the International Confederation of Wizards waspn the floor, retching into a bin.


	4. Angst

AN – I have seen and understood. A reviewer has reminded me I need to proofread. I apologize but I have been most caught up in the thrill of seeing how many hits, visitors, and reviews I am getting that half of the last update was written via phone. I apologize for the sloppiness and ask if there are any betas out there interested in lending a hand? Thank you again for all the positive reviews. Oh and Hagrid's method of speaking is intentional, but if it gets annoying let me know and I will write it normally. I have updated my profile with three challenges for those looking for a Harry/Hermione plot idea two of the three may help. At the end is a response to a reviewer from chap two. In the meantime... *Drops smoke bomb and vanishes so to get on with the good stuff*

While the headmaster emptied his stomach, Hagrid was trying to soothe Harry. The poor lad was so frightened from what he had to relive that he had curled up with his knees in his chest and his arms around them, rocking slightly on the edge of the chair. Hagrid gently pat his hair down and carefully would say," It's all righ' Harry, don' worry." He was truly a gentle man that loathed any being coming to harm. Now though, he was just disgusted. Human beings treating a child like that? It made even his blood boil. He swore that he would take in before letting the boy go back to those... monsters. Harry was still unresponsive several minutes later when Albus came back to the pair after vanishing his addition to Tom's waste bin.

"Harry, my brave, strong boy. I promise you won't ever go through that again. Just come back to us Harry, we want to help you." The kind old man had pink splotches visible on his cheeks and tear tracks could be seen near the corners of his eyes. He reached out and gently patted Harry on the knee as he said," I vow to you Harry James Potter that you will never be returning to number four Privet Drive. I will have many things I need to do with you today Harry, and you will have to meet many people. I won't let them force you to answer questions. But we have to see about your arrangements after we finish with our business in the Alley, can you handle that Harry?"

Harry loosened his grip, his haunted eyes meeting with Albus and the old man repressed a flinch at the lost, tormented look on his face as he whispered," You promise I won't have to go back?" Harry was still feeling the full effects of reliving his worse memories and seeing it reminded him of the feelings, the fear, the self hatred he had felt in trying and failing to be a part of his family. Only now Harry realized that he had no family. No Potters were coming to save him, but Albus Dumbledore and Rubeus Hagrid had come to help him. With that in mind he watched the old man smile warmly and nod his head while the giant shaggy head of Hagrid gave a single nod from behind the aged wizard. "Harry let me explain a few things to you before we go to Diagon Alley. I know you know nothing of your family, nor your inheritance. So I want to explain what I know of your accounts and holdings." Harry looked up with an amazed expression, but the pain was still lingering in his eyes. "What do you mean sir?"

Albus smiled a little brighter now,"Your mother was an amazing woman who worked hard in the Ministry of Magic. She worked in a place called the Department of Mysteries. The work she was doing was and still is a secret. However your father, despite being a natural athlete, was a Hit Wizard. A Hit Wizard is the best trained and skilled of our police, much like a detective is considered better than your average constable. The pair of them had only just started their careers when they had to go into hiding. Lily and James were exceptional, but they had not had time to make much money. Most of the money you have is from your grandparents. They died shortly before the attack that claimed your parents." Dumbledore sighed heavily as he saw Harry turn downcast at the mention of more dead family members. "I apologize Harry but you should understand your history a bit as well. Your grandfather was a business man. A shrewd, but good man. He was never wealthy, nor noble, but everything he had he earned. He and your grandmother were murdered by followers of Voldemort," He heard Hagrid gasp behind him but went on," who were looking for information on your family's whereabouts. They are considered the ideal of love and sacrifice. But I digress, when the elder Potters passed away they left everything they owned to you. However you only may access the trust vault for now. This vault will be refilled every year from your main vault with five thousand galleons. That is to get you through school."

Harry silently absorbed this and asked in a hoarse whisper," I have enough to get my supplies and everything then. What else do we need to do today sir?" Hearing the boy speaking was both painful for the headmaster and a relief. He was glad Harry was adapting, but he had many more things left to do. "We will be taking you in to the hospital to have you checked out Harry. There are many things in your past that require a little healing." Harry, not ever really being to a hospital before, nodded. Albus carried on," Then we will be headed to the Ministry of Magic to get you declared as my ward. As my ward I will be able to have a say in all decisions regarding your placement. For now you will probably be staying here at the Leaky Cauldron. Hagrid will be staying with you, to keep you company and safe before you come to Hogwarts in a month. I will, of course, be available if you need anything. Now do you have any questions?"

Harry looked long and hard at the old wizard before him and said quietly,"What happened to my parents?" Albus Dumbledore noticed he had come from whispering to speaking, but saw the determination bleeding through. _What a remarkable young man to have gone through what he has and have such a heart in him. To hear that he has money and fame and only care for the family he had lost,_"Harry, that story will take a long time to tell. Let me say this: I will tell you that they were hunted because a madman was afraid that they posed a great danger to him. That dark wizard did may terrible things before he vanished the night he tried to kill you. Your parents sacrificed themselves in hopes to protect you. And protect you they did, my boy. No supporter of the wizard has been able to find you at the blood relations home. However," Albus paused, drawing a deep breath," I see that they are the worst sort of people for a child with nobody else. Your parents would have wanted you happy, and today we will see to that Harry."

As Harry considered this he realized that while Dumbledore hadn't answered his question entirely, he also realized that while he was still upset he could now recall everything that happened in his life that Dumbledore had seen in vivid and perfect detail, down to the articles on Vernon's newspaper as the man ordered him to fetch the mail when his first letter arrived. He could see every word if he though on it and he was incredibly shaken by this. As he focused he tuned out the older men and tried to marshal his thoughts. Maybe the headmaster was afraid it would be too much too soon. Harry was certainly feeling overwhelmed. In fact he was almost about to break down and crawl into the nearest cupboard for the quiet support that he drew from being alone. He was growing slightly angry now, angry that he had nobody growing up, angry that nobody had checked on him, angry that he was only rescued because his school was concerned he was not getting his letters.

What Harry didn't see was the faint pulse that had surrounded him while he thought that had grown wilder and crackled and sparked as he got angrier. He didn't notice the air thicken with magic. He didn't but Hagrid and Dumbledore did. Hagrid said,"Blimey Professor Dumbledore, is all that really little Harry? Is he causing all that?" Small objects were scooting away from him now, slowly gravitating out in a circle from where he perched on his chair with his eyes closed. The boy's aura was almost three foot off his body, crackling and sparking with arcs of magical white lightning and flashes of green pulsing from him. "Harry," Dumbledore called to him, hiding his shock that they boy had more raw power in him than he himself. He seemed to startle the boy and everything stood still as his eyes snapped open and he gave a sheepish smile at the two of them,"Sorry, sir. Shall we get going then?"

The visit to Gringots went smoothly, but when Dumbledore asked to stop at a second vault Harry felt his natural curiosity return after his abysmal foray into mind magic. He asked the headmaster if he could say what it was they were retrieving, but the old man had winked and said,"I hope you never need know my boy." Any resentment vanished as he saw his trust vault: Mounds of bronze Knuts, columns of silver Sickles, and a pile of gold Galleons. "Is this all for me?" He asked, open mouthed and wide eyed. Albus chuckled in a friendly way while Hagrid caught his breath. Apparently the carts didn't agree with him. When the headmaster handed him a leather bag and said," It is, I advise a little extra on top of your supplies. It never hurts to be prepared." The three then left the goblin run bank, where Dumbledore had to leave Harry off at the robe shop while he went and helped Hagrid back to the pub.

In the shop, the squat, pleasant woman stood him on a stool near a pale and slightly pointed faced boy. "Oh hello, Hogwarts too?" The boy drawled out, his sleek blond head turning to better showcase his bored expression and cool gray eyes. "Harry nodded, not sure if he liked the way the boy spoke; it reminded him of Dudley. "Mother is getting my books and father is at the apothecary, but when we finish that I plan to drag them off to look at racing brooms. Pity the first years aren't allowed one their own, or on the house quidditch teams." Harry tried to look like he knew what the boy was saying by nodding sympathetically. The blonde boy narrowed his eyes,"Know what house you'll be in?" Harry, unsure just what the boy was on about, merely shrugged as he watched the boy speak. He knew that deep down he and this boy may never be able to be friends but he was the first boy his own age that was not trying to hurt him in a while. So he said in reply," What about you?" Thee boy seemed to swell in pride,"I will be in Slytherin if I have a say in it. Whole family's been in for generations. What is your surname anyway?" But before Harry could reply the lady was ushering him off the stool and the two boys gave parting words as he paid for his robes.

Outside he found Dumbledore and Hagrid waiting for him with a cage between them. "Happy birthday Harry!" Hagrid grinned at him as he looked at the beautiful snow white owl in the cage. Her amber eyes had recognition in them for her new master as he took the cage and stammered his thanks for the first present he had ever received. He then realized where their next stop was and his excitement grew as they neared their last stop of the day: Olivander's Wand Shop.

AN2 – This review has been on my mind the last couple days:

- I have to say right off, that the idea of Death talking to him is one I like, and I would like to continue to read about this, however, the ridiculousness of having Harry be sent back in time to do it all again after dying six other times WITHOUT retaining any knowledge of his future is is waaaaaay over the top stupid.

Obviously, it didnt'work the OTHER 6 times he was sent back. Do you really think we are going to buy a powered up Harry without any knowedge as making a differance without crying foul?

You know, you really need to remember that old but true saying of "The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." Your "Death" guy seemed pretty believable but this whole 'go back and retain no memory of your future' set up is just plain UNbelievable.

Good luck selling this plot to any thinking person.

My advice? Pull this and take out the clauses about Harry not remembering his future, or go on to the next chapter and have Death or an associate change thier minds and give him the memories he's missing. If not, it's just a powered up canon Harry making the same bad choices and having the same things happen to him with the same information he had before, all over again. And if it doesn't happen that way, how will you explain the change? -

Ok, I want to just say a few things in response. One, thank you for the criticism. I like seeing how people react to my stories. Two, I hope that you will give me the benefit of the doubt in that I have a plan for Harry. Death has already made subtle changes and nudged a few people to take action at different times. The changes are small at a glance, but one small change is affecting the entire story. And there is much more coming.


	5. Powers Beyond Life

Death sat upon a black chair of ebony at a round marble table, his casual elegance and terrifying beauty on display to his companions. One was a woman, young in appearance. Her eyes glowed a brilliant violet in her slightly pointed face and long wavy blonde hair. She wore a gauzy white dress that fell to her ankles, rather loose after reaching past her waist. She sat upon a white oak chair at an angle from Death and their third companion. This figure was waif-like, a tiny wisp of of a girl. White of hair and white of eye, she stared almost unblinkingly between the others at a point in the distance. Her sky blue dress went to mid-calf and was very plain and simple, and her whole air was one of unsustainable existence; as though the next faint breeze would carry her off the edge of the drift wood chair she sat upon.

"How progresses the Chosen?" The woman asked Death, who gave a slight sigh. "I have had to subconsciously allow him to feel his emotions in the presence of two: Dumbledore, who needed to be reminded what he was capable of causing if he focused on the grand picture, and Hagrid. They needed to bear witness to the truth of the life of the Chosen. So far, twelve hours have passed and I have subtly shifted attention several times to show the witnesses the damage the Chosen has had thus far. He is now I believe, set on course to recover from his pain and fulfill his potential. Of course," he added with a faint trace of a smile," that is mostly in your hands, Fate?"

The woman Fate gave the pale man a withering look," You know that saying is rubbish as well as I Death. I only hold the grand picture, though I can affect large events. Tom Riddle has bound his fate with the Chosen, and in doing so has left himself crippled by your unforeseen time displacement." She frowned slightly as she looked at the two alternately," Though I must say I am confused as to why you removed his memories. He would have been able to fix his errors, avoid certain circumstances."

The girl spoke in a soft melodic voice," But that would have much farther reaching consequences for both Death and the Dark One." Her eyes seemed to shift slightly as she focused on Fate," In mastering Death the Chosen has gained much power, indeed power the Dark One does not know. But had Death restored the mind of the Chosen, he would have fulfilled a prophecy of Armageddon made by seers long before recorded time. Nobody heard it, and thus would only be known to me:

_A battle that will transcend death will come,_

_And one will have to choose between life and death._

_The choice of one will bring peace to those of magic,_

_Yet the one with the power of Death and Time _

_Will carry the seed of Armageddon._

_Should knowledge transcend Time it shall pass to a Dark One,_

_For the one will share a piece of the Dark One_

_And the line of the one will perish at the hands of darkness._

_The Dark One then will shadow the world;_

_All Life and Death at his whim until the end of days._

_Time and Death must then remain in the shadow_

_If the one is to be the Light, vanquisher of Dark._

_For by seven and three, the powers beyond_

_The one shall fall, not to the darkness,_

_And six times Death welcomed a Master_

_Master of choice and conqueror of Death_

_The one shall return to finish the darkness._

_Aided by shadows, the one will awaken to his heart._

_His heart shall unlock the power, _

_Darkness mortal weakness embodied in the Chosen._

So you see," Prophecy spoke as she looked at Fate with those unwavering and unblinking white orbs," If we had sent him back with knowledge, the Dark One would have gained the knowledge as well. They are bound first in soul, then in blood after the resurrection. Certain events must come to pass if the Chosen is to be prepared to face his enemy. We may have more affect now that he has the power of seven and three, but otherwise he must make his own way."

Death gave a slight cough," Actually, I may have found a way around the whole returning with knowledge issue." He stared at his fingernails in boredom while Fate gasped and the girl Prophecy gave him a peculiar look, her head cocked to the side as she considered him. "If he is the master of Death, then as a vassal of the Chosen I can help my master in any way I deem appropriate. If, for example he finds himself in a life threatening situation he may have been in before, his mind may have a flash of insight on how best to avoid Death. Or if he struggled previously with retaining knowledge, I may have allowed him to retain whatever he sees and hears." Fate stared, slack jawed and wide eyed as Prophecy burst out laughing. "I see you realize why prophecy is open to interpretation," Death said delicately as he laid a hand the table and grinned. Even his dark eyes were glinting in triumph.

Fate merely gaped as Prophecy spoke through giggles," He can't.. return with his knowledge. But if he easily gains... new knowledge and instinct, then he has not... awakened the seeds of Armageddon. Truly a feat worthy of Death himself." She finished with another burst of giggles.

Fate spoke up at last," Total recall. You gave him a perfect memory, and deja vu instincts. Am I understanding you correctly? You have given him every tool he needs to succeed when we," She waved an airy hand between herself and the giggling child," have been trying to do that very thing in far more a discreet way for nearly a century of cumulative time?" Her eyes narrowed,"How powerful are you truly?"

Death shrugged in as composed a way as he could, his eyes focusing on her own,"It is not my power, but ours that matters now. Three and seven are intensely powerful Fate. Three forces beyond Time and Life. Seven times returned to Life. How do you think we were able to do so much this time?" Fate sagged slightly, in relief or abashment, only she knew. "What do we do next?" She asked with her head facing the table, eyes downcast. "We wait, we watch, and we plan." Death answered calmly. He was new to the Harry Potter Protection Corps. (™ )

Fate shook her head, " He will need Hermione Granger. She has a cunning mind and even with the recall and power he will someone with a cooler head and good work ethic to guide him in using those gifts. If Ronald Weasely were to influence him once more those very gifts would be wasted and his return would be a mere repeat of past failures." Prophecy frowned, "Ronald is not a bad person, he just needs to motivate himself. He needs to become what he desires instead of merely desiring it. He must work to become a friend of the Chosen. If he were to meet Hermione first, and she were his first friend, it would be as it though it were _fate_." She enunciated the last word carefully and with extra emphasis. Fate merely raised an eyebrow before a wide smile split the females faces as Death merely groaned. It was going to be a long eternity with these two in tow.

AN – I wanted to post a quick aside to the Realm Beyond to answer a few questions as to my plans for Harry. Here are a few answers, and I hope it doesn't give too much away. This was going to be an unsaid thing that was more thoroughly explored at a later time, but I have many plans for the three beyond as well as my favorite duo. So while this answers a few questions, I hope the "how it plays out" will keep ya coming back! * Vanishes in swirling wind *


	6. Of Wands and Wizards

AN - Welcome back to TMoD! We have a brand new chapter fresh off the press! Also? NinjaGin is now being Beta'd! MarvelousMarvel is my awesome and oncredibly understanding new Beta. But wait, there's more! We may also be joined by a second Beta! Why? This fic in it's entirety will hit 150K words. It is of novel length, and I hope that you lot will stick with us to the end. For now * melts into shadow *

Harry felt excitement wash over him as he followed Dumbledore and Hagrid into the shop. As soon as he entered he got the feeling of power, great magical power radiating through the deceptively musty and slightly narrow store. He felt a tingling in his fingertips and slight raising of the hairs on his arms. He stared about in open wonder at the shop, ignoring the counter for the moment as he took in the small boxes in neat stacks, row by row, shelf by shelf, floor to ceiling. As the young wizard stood, gazing enraptured by the number of wands and the power radiating from them, Harry experienced a peculiar sensation. His face scrunched in concentration as he focused his mind on the unusual feeling, almost as though it were something on the tip of his tongue or maybe even a half remembered dream.

As Harry felt the supernatural pull of magic on his senses and body, Albus and Olivander both watched in surprise. "My my Albus, It appears that young Mister Potter is quite entranced with something. Why, it is almost as though his wand is calling him, but very few have ever heard the call. And none in the last century."

Albus nodded as he steepled his fingers, electing to sit as Hagrid and Hedwig watched in silence. Albus had witnessed magic do marvelous things, he had seen many unique phenomena in his long life, and with this new development regarding Harry Potter he was more and more torn. Harry was at the least a powerful and yet damaged wizard. If he fell from grace, if he was enticed to the darkness Voldemort would be a pleasant dream by comparison. He knew that Harry was a special case as the ancient magics protecting the boy were unknown any more; lost to the ravages of time. Could the love of his mother have inundated him with so much magical energy he had become sensitive to the innate flow of magic? And would that love, the antithesis of the dark arts, protect him from their allure of greater power? As he watched the boy move towards a rack of boxes, eyes closed and brow furrowed in great concentration, Albus Dumbledore felt the fear of failure for the first time since Voldemort vanished. He knew that if Harry died or turned that the world would be consumed by darkness and the light of hope forever banished.

Harry found the resonance of the feeling within hin grow stronger as he neared the rack. And closing his eyes to better focus on the internal pull he was experiencing. He raised his hand, feeling something growing within and at the same tine outside of himself. His fingers brushed lightly against the cool outside of a wooden box. He opened his eyes and turned to look over his shoulder at the group. "May I please see this?"

Olivander glided over, his misty eyes full of curiosity until he saw the box in question. He reacted very slightly, but both Harry and Dumbledore caught the widening of his large eyes and the lift to his eyebrows. As he carefully withdrew the thin box he muttered,"Curious, very curious indeed." He reverently lifted the lid with a pale, thin hand. Harry reached for the wand before he registered Olivander speaking," Holly and phoenix feather core, eleven inches. Nice and supple." Harry saw the look he sent Professor Dumbledor but was too focused on the feeling of longing he was sharing with the wand. Fingers grasped the smooth wood, and instantly a burst of song seemed to emanate from the wand. It was a hauntingly beautiful and jubilant melody that swelled after a moment, filling the small group with warmth, hope, courage, and contentment.

After a minute and a half the song faded, but the green glowing aura around Harry was back, stronger than ever and had only grown more controlled as Harry held the wand. His eyes glowed when Albus saw them, positively radiating power. The old man knew in his bones that here at last was a worthy disciple to pass on his vast knowledge to, for only a fool would not see that Harry Potter was something different. He had the power to lead the world, but so far as Albus could tell the most important thing to Harry was family and love. He was wounded in his soul, but with good friends and a solid foundation in vitues like honesty, trust, redemption, sacrifice, and love those pains could be soothed and maybe one day forgotten. As he watched those eyes filled with awe and wonder and the magic within them fading to leave them their normal vivid green, Albus vowed to himself that he would have to take up teaching once more, as well as have a chat with a pair of faculty members at the school soon as he returned.

Hagrid clapped and whooped as Olivander held his hand out for the wand with a look of immense satisfaction tinged with something akin to amazement. "Marvelous Mr. Potter, simply astounding. And ever so interesting."

As he packed away the wand with loving care he heard the young boy ask,"Sir, why is it interesting?"

Olivande spoke as he was closing the lid of the box,"I remember very wand I have ever sold Mr. Potter, as well as what they are made from. No two wands are the exact same." he finished with the box and leveled his large silver eyes with the eager green of his customer," However, the phoenix whose tail feather is imbedded within yours gave me one other feather. Just one. It is most interesting that your wand chose you when it's brother gave you gave you that scar."

Scene Break

Harry sat on his bed, reading his course books. Professor Dumbledore had left after ensuring that Hagrid and himself were safely ensconced within their rooms. Harry had been subtly hidden from the majority of the patrons. Only Tom the bat man knew he was there and Dumbledore insisted that secrecy was required to protect Harry. Tom, elderly and far wiser than many expected (and after seeing the pitiable state of the "hero" who vanquished Voldemort) merely accepted this and booked adjoining rooms for Hagrid. The large man was currently sitting in his expanded and reinforced armchair knitting. The pair would stay that in companionable silence for most of the afternoon and evening. Harry had realized that Hagrid was not terribly good at magic, but knew a few basic pointers. One memorable moment found Harry practicing a reparing charm he hadread about on his glasses while Hagrid watched.

It took exactly three tries. After setting them next to him on the bed, Harry squinted and incanted," _Reparo_." The glasses shivered a bit, the frame warping into place but the cracks and scratches remained. Undaunted he tried again, flourising a touch too much and rendering the spell ineffective. Hagrid was inpressed that the boy had managed to even affect the spectacles and was about to say as much when Harry tried again. He visualized a new pair of glasses, how the glass would be smooth, the frame whole and unblemished. "_Reparo_." The glasses seemed to ariffen and return to a pristine brand new condition. Hagrid was not sure if Harry had repaired or transfigured them into new ones.

"Blimey Harry! Third try and yer first spell! Yer gonna be summat special, mark my words!"

Harry, having put the glasses back on, blushed but went back to his reading with a,"I just want to Harry, Hagrid." to which Hagrid chuckled.

"Yeh seem ta really understand magic Harry. I wouldn't be surprised if yeh made top of the class." Harry grinned sheepishly up from where he was sprawled across the bed and Hedwig glided over to him, gently perching on his shoulder and seeming to read with him as he reaches up and gently stroked her feathers. Hagrid had a fleeting impression of a young Albus Dumbledore studying with Fawkes at his side. Yeah, Harry was something special all right.

The next few days found Harry studying his coursebook "The Standard Book of Spells: Beginner". He had managed every spell that he could manage within the confines of their two rooms. He had Hagrid laughing like a loon when he accidentally leviatated his bed. Harry was far less amused, but then agin if Hagrid had been stretched out on the bed when it shot up in the air he probably would have been a touch less embarrassed. He managed the Unlocking Charm while practicing on Hedwig's empty cage. The owl in question was hardly ever in her cage to begin with, often prefereing to perch on one of the posts at the end od the bed near her master. This made the cage almost a moot point as she swooped in and out at night to feed herself and only slept in it for the perch. However this made it perfect for certain spells.

Meanwhile, Albus Dumbledore was having a bit of a staring match with Severus Snape, the youngest potions master in many years. The man was also the potions instructor at Hogwarts. Harry Potter was the reason they were staring at each other so intently, for the second that hated name left Dumbledore's lips Snape had settled in his worst sneer and said," Oh is pampered Potter gracing is with his presence at long last? Excuse me if I do not weep for joy,"

His entire demeanor shifted as Dumbledore said heavily,"You may yet weep Severus, I have destroyed Harry's childhood."

And so they sat across from each other in the Headmaster's office, staring at each other. Finally Snape said curtly,"Elaborate Albus." The reply was a flick of Dumbledore's wand. A cabinet sprang open and a stone basin etched in runes levitated out to land between them.

"I used legilimency, with the boy's permission, and saw his childhood. Through his own eyes. He is... delicate at the moment Severus. Watch and understand the truth." He then drew his wand to his temple, pulling a silvery strand from it and placing it into the basin. He repeated this procedure several times, the silver matching his long hair and beard as it flowes from head to wand, wand to overflowing bowl. When he finished Dumbledore gestured Snape on.

A few minutes later Severus Snape, well known for his composure and cold demeanor, lay back in his chair and closed his eyes as tears tracked down his sallow face. The tranquility was short lived," Did you know Albus? Did you know how those muggles treated him?" He opened his black eyes and Dumbledore saw the rage burning in them. "How they treated her son?"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly," But there is more to show. You may be shocked further before this day ends." Snape merely slumped lower in his chair while Albus sorted new thoughts in the pensieve. Albus heard him say,"Deplorable... Don't believe..," among other things of a less savory nature. The headmaster simply busied himself preparing to further destroy the man's disbelief in a weak and overbearing Harry Potter.

When Snape reviewed the trip to Diagon Alley he gazed in open mouthes greasy horror at the raw power the child exuded when stressed. Easily a match for the Dark Lord, if less refined. And he would only grow stronger. As he witnessed the svents of Olivander's he shivered down to soul. Lily's boy was going to be greater than the Dark Lord, possibly Dumbledore as well. It made a few things very troubling: He now needed to reconcile Harry Potter with his imagined Potter. As the memories ended and the sat once more at the table across from each other Snape said in an almost imperceptibly stunned voice, "What next?"


	7. King's Cross

The days turned to weeks and Harry had moved steadily through most of his course books, the ones he was still reading were "1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi" and "A History of Magic". The former was an incredibly interesting read, it was incredible and complicated, but as he memorized instructions upon reading them and had very little need for repetition when studying the books themselves he really had made amazing time through the other subjects.

He rarely left the confines of the room, and he was oddly at peace with that. Nobody yelled at him, nobody called him dirty names. He was just Harry and he loved being able to read and relax instead of having to pull weeds. He was beginning to feel what it was to be normal.

"Harry tomorrow is the big day. I gotta go before yeh, so I will be dropping you off early at King's Cross. We'll be there in plenty of time, but do not lose yer ticket Harry. Still got it?" Harry glanced up from his reading with a small smile, and reached into a book bag Hagrid and Dumbledore had picked up for him while he was taking care of his course books in Flourish and Blotts. Hagrid nodded seriously, but the crinkling of his eyes gave him away,"Ah Harry, and 'ere I was hoping to take yeh with me if yeh'd forgot it somewhere."

Harry's eyes widened and he almost seemed to apparate to the big man's side, he moved so fast, "Hagrid, could you really?" The plea in his voice caused Hagrid to look confusedly down at him.

"Harry? What's wrong?" A large hand gently set down on the narrow shoulder of the young man as Harry spoke in a small voice, examining Hagrid's boots, but his large friend would have none of that.

"Yeh need to tell me Harry, maybe I can help yeh."

"I, I just, what if..."Harry struggled to find the right words, "Both you and Professor Dumbledore made out I'm famous." Harry started slowly, still avidly staring at the floor between Hagrid's massive feet, "I'm worried people will be odd around me, even though all I want is to be myself. I don't want this whole "Boy Who Lived" rubbish to keep me from making real friends." The last bit was finally the truth, and Hagrid saw through the protests. He was smiling sadly down at the small boy before him, remembering his own time at Hogwarts and similar fears about not being liked.

"Harry," he said firmly, using one giant finger to lift Harry's head to face him, "Yeh have a good heart. If yeh let people, yeh'll find sometimes the best of friends in the leas' expected people." He pointed his index finger at Harry's chest, "Yeh gotta try before you go an' close up." The gamekeeper knelt at Harry's level," Hogwarts is a place of fresh starts; yeh can be 'just Harry'. Yeah, some people'll be a bit starstruck, and some might just want to be seen with yeh; remember though Harry: yeh are who yeh are. Nobody can take tha' away from yeh. Someone will see you, I mean really see "you", and like yeh for Harry."

Harry gave Hagrid a surprised look. Surprised, but filled with gratitude. "That's something I'll try to remember Hagrid. Thank you." Feeling slightly less anxious he put away his books as Hagrid rose, suddenly checking his pockets as Harry discreetly wiped his eyes before turning back to Hagrid with a grin, "I think I'm done studying for now." His eyes sparkled with a touch of eagerness as he attempted to be more upbeat," Can you tell me about my parents? I bet you know loads about them!"

The pair spent the rest of day in happy conversation with Hagrid relating some of his father's hobbies and how sweet Lily was. Harry felt his worries fade as he listened with a hungry intensity, and he was grateful he would remember Hagrid's every word. No matter that it was all probably exaggerated, as Hagrid seemed fond of doing. No matter that it was second hand. Harry Potter found himself feeling a warm soothing feeling as Hagrid's stories helped patch up some of his injured heart.

~TTMoD~

Harry found himself alone in the middle of the bustling station. The ticket said "Platform 9 3/4", yet Harry saw no such place between platforms nine at ten. He was now standing near a pillar by platform nine, listening and watching for someone who might know how to get on the train.

Hedwig sat quiescently, seeming to know not to draw attention to herself. Harry wondered again at his snowy owl's intelligence. She always found a way to let him know if she needed anything and was great company when Hagrid had nipped down to the pub proper for a drink. Now she simply scanned the crowds as he was, almost as if looking as well.

Harry had a heavy trunk on one of the station's trolleys, an owl in cage, and a pocket of wizards gold. If he really needed he knew he could send Hedwig to Professor Dumbledore, but he decided to wait and see if such a drastic step would be necessary.

"Slow down sweetheart, I don't see your platform." A middle aged man with a short cropped dark brown hair and bright, intelligent eyes was speaking to a girl around Harry's age; a woman hiding a smile following the pair had a wild head of chestnut brown and a pleasant face with very white teeth. Harry listened as they came nearer.

The girl was a cross of her parents, a tangle of brown hair that was rather bushy, slightly large front teeth that were nonetheless incredibly white, bright brown eyes filled with curiosity, intelligence, and enthusiasm. She walked with a purposeful stride and seemed to emanate a sense of confidence.

Harry noticed that all three were rather well dressed, and he turned slightly red as he realized that he had worn some of his cousin's cast aways. He had repaired them magically, but they were still large and rather unsightly. He had tried to find a shrinking spell, but Hagrid said that was third year standard. He felt embarrassed but he knew he would have to ask.

He squared his thin shoulders and pushed Hedwig and his trunk over as the girl said exasperatedly, "It's ok Daddy, I remember how to get there. The professor explained remember?"

The man mumbled something that sounded a lot like, "Got that from your mother's side," as Harry followed them. The woman playfully slapped his arm in retaliation and Harry froze until he saw the man mock pouting at his daughter. The trio laughed as Harry felt his breathing return to normal. They weren't like his family. They were just playing in good nature. He resumed following as the girl suddenly became serious.

"Daddy... Her air of calm confidence was replaced suddenly with vulnerability. She seemed troubled and her brown eyes reflected a touch of apprehension. She worried her lower lip causing her parents shared a look over her head. A sure sign of thinking intensely in their precocious daughter, but added with her bouts of uncertainty this left only question they knew would be coming up: "What if nobody likes me?" She gave her father a look that showed her as she truly was, a lonely child bereft of friends and hoping against hope. A look pleading for reassurance.

"Sweetheart..." he started," you are an incredibly gifted girl. You're very bright, and you learn quickly. Some people will be intimidated by that. Some will try and have you around for help with school work. But," he knelt down and put his hands on her shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes that were so much like his wife's," there will be someone who sees past the books, past your intelligence, and sees you for the amazing girl you are." Harry watched the man move to embrace the girl in a tight hug, saw her gripping him back just as tight, then the woman was there and the three were a tangled huddle of limbs.

___I wish I had that_, Harry thought with a sad heart._ A family that would be there for me, love away my fear. I wish I had been hugged once in my life. I wonder how that feels? Is it pleasant? Is it comforting? I hope she doesn't take for granted how amazingly lucky she is to have this._

Harry decided against any outright meeting at the moment. He was too self-conscious and couldn't bear to have someone pity him before they ever got to know him. He made a silent vow in his head to change into his school robes once he got onto the train. He followed at a distance, using the bustle of the crowd to mask his intention of tailing them to the train. He lost the thread of the conversation and watched instead as the girl and her parents walked forward towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

Harry watched, the scene burned into memory as he watched the trolley disappear into the barrier. He decided to pause for a moment. No need to push through and cause a scene with the family. A few minutes later he watched the parents emerge and as they were walking away he went ahead and pushed his way through the trolley, noting the sad smiles on the girl's parents.

Sad, but proud. He again felt the pang as he walked a little more quickly and slipped through the seemingly solid barrier. Even expecting the crash that never came he was amazed as he instead found himself on a large platform with a brilliantly scarlet steam engine.

The platform was not overly crowded yet. A few parents stood talking with their children, but for the most part there was a bit of peace compared to the manic rush of the muggle side of the station. Harry pushed his trunk over to an open door and managed to drag/lift it up the stairs and into the train car. He saw a deserted compartment and gave the trunk a massive heave.

A couple minutes and a few bruises later he managed to get his trunk onto the seat and figured that'd have to do. He was sweaty and hot; he pushed his black hair back from his forehead and saw the girl from the station tugging her trunk along the corridor. Being told it was impolite to let a girl struggle with anything all his life, Harry called into the corridor, "Do you need some help with that?"

The girl looked over at him in surprise, but said, "If it isn't a bother, I'd appreciate it." She watched Harry move over to the other side and together they managed to pull the trunk (which Harry noticed was substantially heavier than his own) into the compartment and under one of the benches. He gave her a half-smile and sat on the bench next to his own trunk. She watched him and said in a bossy sort of way, "Thank you?"

Harry held out his hand, "Harry, Harry Potter. And it was no problem...?"

The brown haired girl took his hand and shook it once, "Hermione Granger. Are you really Harry Potter?" She settled on the bench over her trunk. She seemed intensely inquisitive and set a very interested gaze upon him. Harry seemed slightly uncomfortable as he realized why Dumbledore and Hagrid had been hiding him. He decided to at least try and take Hagrid's advice.

"Yes, but I wasn't even aware of any of the rumors or the whole Boy Who Lived thing. I didn't live in a wizarding home growing up, so I didn't even realize what I was doing was magic until one of the staff came and told me I was a wizard." _And nearly turned my cousin into a pig_, he didn't add.

Hermione looked a bit thrown off. She furrowed her brows and asked, "You didn't know about the wizarding world either? I was under the impression from what I'd read that you had lived relations of yours. Certainly they had known?"

Harry closed off a little. This was far too close to the heart of the matter for his tastes, Hagrid be damned! "Oh they weren't wizards." He seemed very set on this point and Hermione realized that he wasn't up for talking about his home life. He was dressed poorly; she figured he must have grown up poor and gave a small nod as they lapsed into a short silence. It seemed Hermione's curiosity was not to be denied.

"You know you are in "The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts" and a couple other books as well?"

Harry was slightly surprised he hadn't considered this, but was surprised by how well read the girl was, "I didn't buy many books outside the coursework. I have read most of those though."

Hermione had seemed slightly put upon at first, but brightened on hearing he had read the books as well," Oh I have all the textbooks memorized. I know them all by heart!" She stated proudly, and a teensy bit smug. Harry gave her that lopsided grin again.

"Wow, I am impressed! I didn't get through "A History of Magic" and am only partway through "1000 Magical herbs and Fungi". He settled into the new topic, and the pair talked about the spells they had tried as the train filled slowly. Before they knew it they heard the whistle alerting everyone that it was a few minutes until departure.


	8. The Hogwarts Express

AN - A little apology for taking so long between updates, so here is a fresh, new, hot-off-NinjaGin's mind chapter! As always many thanks to my betas MarvelousMarvel and her insight as well as the brilliant BenignViewer and his remarkable skill. A special shout out to GenetiX and Paladeus, the former for being a part of my frequent reviewers club (ok, he actually pointed out a typo that amused me) and the latter for being an amazing source of information and advice.

After the whistle interrupted their discussion they paused for a bit, both surprised to find the time had passed so easily between them. Harry reached over and began to rumage around his trunk. Hermione looked at him confusedly for a moment before he pulled out his school robes and gave a slightly embarrassed smile. "I'm going to the loo real quick, I'd like to change before we set out."

He saw a flash of understanding in her bright brown eyes and she said quickly,"I'll step out for a second so you can change here Harry."

Ever the gentleman, Harry made to disagree but she had already marched out of the compartment and was waiting with her back to the sliding door. Deciding haste would make the best compromise the dark haired boy made his change quickly. He opened the door a few moments later, surprising the fellow learning enthusiast.

TMoD

Hermione was impressed he had managed to change so quickly when she felt the door open behind her. She had to admit that she was secretly thrilled to have engaged in such a conversation with someone her own age. She loved learning sure, but without anyone to share that passion with she felt isolated at times. Here at least was someone she felt, if not quite as intelligent as she was, was quite capable of hanging on and holding his own in deep concersations. And while he was famous he certainly didn't act it.

She found herself wondering so deeply she almost missed him saying,"Care to sit back down? We've got time still before we depart and I bet this'll be a right madhouse in a few."

She nodded in agreement, acknowledging his assessment. She returned to her spot over her trunk as they heard a woman shout from nearby,"Fred, George!"

Together with Harry she looked out the window to see a clan (there were simply far too many to say family) of red haired children with their mother. The matronly woman was scolding a pair of identical boys rather loudly,"... don't know why you two insist on making everything more difficult. Now, there's a little time left before the train leaves. Where's Percy?"

"Here, mother." The tallest of the boys spoke, emerging into sight from their vantage point,"I can't stay long, the Prefects have a carriage at the front of the train."

"Oh," one of the twins said with an air of great surprise, rushing over to his elder brother,"are you a Prefect? Why didn't you say so?" He bowed ridiculously low in front of Percy, who glowered and went to retort just as the other twin tapped his chin and cut him off.

"You know what Fred, I think Percy mentioned it once,"

"Or twice," his brother seemed to flash over in front of him in an identical pose, arms crossed and tapping his chin thoughtfully in concurrence.

"A minute," They shared wicked grins as the spoke in unison,"All summer."

"Shut up!" Percy, who had tried several times to interrupt their little sarcastic tirade, finally snapped. The mother clucked disapprovingly, casting a stern look at the twins.

"You two look after Ron, and no trouble this year or I'll bring you straight home! I don't want to hear you've blown up a toilet or,"

"Blown up toilet? We've never blown up a toilet, great idea though. Thanks mum." The youngest two burst into laughter as she looked at Harry about to comment when she saw it: the longing in his eyes. She was confused, but decided to forge ahead anyway.

"I am certainly glad they aren't in our carriage. They look like trouble." She stated matter-of-factly. Oh she knew the type: class clowns and pranksters. Usually compensating for a lack of intellect or struggling in class. She didn't have a problem with them as long as they respected her. She saw Harry rouse himself and give her a shrug.

Oh I don't know Hermione. I think that maybe they'd be fun to have as friends. Maybe not close friends..." He gave her a cheeky smile and nod before laughing at her indignant expression.

TMoD

Harry had been quiet since his little teasing joke. He had seen the family and while it was clear the oldest was a bit of a stick in the mud the family seemed so close.

He opened his potions book and pretended to read a bit for time. Hermione had pulled a book out of her trunk after he had joked about the twin brothers and had been quiet since. Not that he complained, it gave him time to compose himself after the surge of desire he felt.

He wanted family so badly that he envied those who had families that were large or caring. He sat, behind the book, thinking of what his mother would have done. His mind supplied a fantasy of a woman with long hair and green eyes like his own crouching to give him a hug before gently kissing his scar. He imagined hugging the woman back, but they were interrupted by reality when the compartment door opened with a clatter.

A round faced boy, looking pink in the face and slightly out of breath. They had left the station behind and were now in the countryside. He blinked as he realized he had been in his own world for a while now, but Hermione has been absorbed in her book just as deeply as he had been engrossed in his fantasy family.

The boy took a deep breath before saying in a slightly nervous voice,"Have either of you seen a toad?" at the begative head shakes he wailed piteously,"I lost him!"

Hermione immediately shifted gears, taking charge,"Well we can help you find him, if you want?" her eyes flickered to Harry, but he was already syowing his book and standing up. Harry gave a nod and the three set out.

As they worked their way to the next compartment the boy said shyly,"My name is Neville Longbottom, what're yours?"

Harry let Hermione speak first,"I am Hermione Granger. Nice to meet you Neville." She went to slide open the next compartment as Harry replied.

My name's Harry, Harry Potter." Neville stumbled a bit at this, but then recovered and simply nodded in recognition.

Sensing Harry's discomfort and realizing that the compartment was devoid of toad, Hermione interjected," Well Neville, are you from a wizarding family?" When Neville looked confused she hastily added,"We are both raised in the muggle world."

Neville then made a small noise of understanding. "Well, the family is one of the pldest pureblooded wizarding lines in Britain. That's why they were all so disappointed when I didn't show signs of magic 'til last year. They were worried I may have been a squib."

Seeing the confusion he felt mirrored on Hermione's face he was unsurprised when she asked,"What's a squib Neville? I've not read that anywhere..." She trailed off as a cold voice sneered from the compartment behind them.

"Squibs are basically blights on a family tree. A disgrace to their parents and heritage."

The three whirled around and came face to face with the pale boy from Madame Malkin's. He had superior smirk looking at Neville that turned to disdain when looking at Hermione,"And let me guess," he drawled out with obvious dislike,"A muggleborn who knows nothing of the wizarding world?" His emphasis on "muggleborn" and "wizarding" made his point clear: you don't belong here.

Seeing the hurt on his companions' faces Harry stepped between the boy and the others," And who are you to say those things?"

The boy gave a laugh,"Please, I am Draco Malfoy. And you are?" He looked almost contemptuously at Harry before he noticed the scar. Suddenly his face split into a smile,"So you're Harry Potter! Father was hoping that I would be able to meet you at Hogwarts. But really," He stage whispered the next part," you shouldn't consort with muggleborns and squibs." He extended a hand," I can help you there."

Harry glared coldly at the hand,"No thanks," he said stiffly,"I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks."

To his credit, Malfoy didn't get red in the face like Neville had, but he did narrow his eyes," Watch your step Potter, your parents didn't show proper respect either." Neville gasped quietly as Harry clenched his fists.

Instantly, as if tossed by a giant hand, Malfoy was thrown back into his compartment. Harry spoke quietly,"I will ask you once: leave my parents out of this." Harry's eyes glowed with power, sparks dancing seemingly just under the surface. Malfoy went paler (a rather remarkable feat), shock the last thing the three saw as the door slammed shut of its own volition on the blonde bigot.

Harry took a deep breath, calming down. As he unclenched his hands he heard a choking sound from beside him. He turned to Neville and saw the other two both staring at him in amazement, awe, and a little admiration. "What?" He asked, blushing a little under the scrutiny.

"Blimey Harry," Neville whimpered,"I hope I never upset you."

TMoD

Upon returning to their car, tired and Trevor-less, they plopped into their chairs. Hermione broke the silence after a bit.

"Thank you Harry." She averted her eyes and she was unusually quiet compared to her standard thus far.

Harry looked up, shocked. "For what Hermione? I didn't find Trevor." He saw her look down and mumble something. Neville nodded, but he just looked confusedly between them. Neville took pity on him and explained.

"That was the first time anyone's stood up for me Harry. I think she was thanking you for that. I'm grateful too." He pinked again, but they were saved an awkward silence by a plump woman pushing the sweet trolley.

"Anything from the trolley dears?"

Those simple words caused a weird sense of having been through the same thing before, except donething was off, but in a way that felt right. What was it called? He reamed his memory, knowing there was a different name for the weird feeling. Déja vu, that's it, Harry realized. He was silent and almost didn't snap out of it in time to get anything. Hungry as he was, he bought a couple of everything. He figures he ould share with Hermione and Neville. The idea of sharing something with friends, having something to share and people to share with as well, filled him with an odd happiness he was not familiar with.

As he sat back down and the lady moved on Hermione looked severely at him, her face in a disapproving frown,"Are you planning on eating all of that?"

Neville gave a nervous chuckle, and Harry smiled patiently," Actually I was going to ask you both to share it with me, but if you don't want any..." he trailed off, waving a package labelled Pumpkin Pasty around as if to entice her.

She huffed,"My parents are dentists Harry, do you honestly think you can tempt me with sweets?"

Harry adopted a serious look,"No I didn't think it before. But if your parents are dentists then I bet I actually can!"

Neville just looked bemused, and both looked at him confusedly when he asked," Sorry, but what's a Den Test?" Harry looked at Hermione's affronted expression for all of a second before quickly turning away to fake cough/laugh as she patiently explained to Neville what muggle dentists do. When he looked back over he had box in his hand and a curious look on his face.

"Hey Neville, are these actual frogs?" As the last bit left his lips he again had that weird re-rxperiencing feeling, which strengthened when Neville said,"No, but they do have cards in them you can collect."

Intrigued by the weird feeling he opened the pack and watched as the frog leaped up out of the box and onto the window where it got sucked out of the train by the slipstream. Neville gave him a sympathetic look,"Bad luck Harry, they can be quick."

The card remaining in the box drew his attention. He quickly read the information and smiled, Dumbledore was a bit odd it seemed, but he figured he was a good man. His actions had been nothing short of remarkable. Harry himself was amazed at the way Dumbledore seemed so extraordinarily well connected. Nicholas Flamel, and from what Hagrid told him a powerful figure in the national and international governments. He wondered, as he handed the card to Hermione, who appeared fascinated with the moving picture of Albus Dumbledore winking at her that she forgot to be cross with him, that thos new world may never stop surprising him.


	9. Hogwarts

An- Sorry about the delay, had a case of life... Fortunately this is a substantial update. Enjoy!

Harry, Hermione and Neville spent much of the remainder of the ride talking about classes and houses. As he stood with the others and stretched his stiff back he pondered on a curious bit of information.

_"You know Harry, my gran says Slytherin has produced more dark leaning wizards than all the others combined." The round face was more relaxed when he was at peace and comfortable. Harry watched the expressive gesture at the compartment door,"The Malfoy family and a few others have long histories with the dark arts," he looked fairly uncomfortable, as though merely mentioning the nastier side of magic made him queasy," but I bet they also have been Slytherin as long as they can care to trace."_

_Hermione had perked up slightly, interest apparent in her face as she leaned forward and asked,"So do families traditionally go into the same house? I've often wondered since learning about the house system in Hogwarts: A History."_

_Neville flushed a dull pink, his eyes downturned for a moment in anguish. Harry noted the brief flash of emotion before Neville stammered a bit," Y-yeah, n-normally Hermione. However there are always exceptions Gran says. Expects me to be one I bet. Says I'm not brave enough to follow family tradition." Again, he flushed a bit more thoroughly._

_Noticing his companion's downtrodden demeanor Harry said bracingly," Neville, from what I see you're plenty brave. You didn't run away from Malfoy earlier." The idea of a house full of bullies like Malfoy left a bitter taste in his mouth._

_Hermione cottoned on and quickly added her two pence,"You just need to be more confident Neville."_

_The boy in question looked over at his traveling companions and gave a weak smile,"Thanks you two, but don't feel like you need to lie to make me feel better."_

_Harry frowned but said nothing. His experiences didn't lend themselves well to encouragement or support. In fact, all of his positive encounters had come from Dumbledore and Hagrid._

_It seemed Hermione wasn't so reserved," Well, wherever you end up Neville we will stay friends. Won't we Harry?"_

_And in that moment that they locked eyes Harry saw through her carefully crafted walls and her domineering façade. What he saw in those brown eyes confused him as much as his own feelings: she was hopeful, yet scared. That ignited a massive emotional and mental explosion that he hid with a lopsided grin and a nod._

_Their reactions were different and distinctive. Hermione's slight brightening of her expression was far harder to spot than Neville's wide smile and stuttered gratitude_

He hid behind the walls of his own mind, cherishing the memory as much as he was terrified of the endless sea of possibilities. He had people who wanted to be his friends? And not only that, but they both seemed to be good people. Hermione was a take charge type and while he was not thrilled by the idea of being bossed around he felt that with her so far she had at least tried to get to know "Harry". Neville, well Neville was a bit of a dilemna. He seemed like a genuine person and didn't have a very outgoing personality at all. Like Hermione, he seemed to move past the Boy-Who-Lived rubbish quickly enough.

Then there was the malestrom of chaotic emotions he himself was warring with. The idea of friends was so intensely longed for, so deeply rooted in his soul that he welcomed them almost without reservations. That very fact troubled him. He felt so comfortable it scared him. He didn't want to take the walls, didn't want to let people too close. So he would be the perfect friend; he'd smile and listen and be supportive. He'd laugh and study and do whatever he could to help his friends. Maybe if things worked out he would open up too.

It was a tenuous peace he reached, but it was bolstered when he the first distinctive voice he heard was a familiar, friendly voice.

"Firs' years, this way! All firs' years come with me!"

The giant arm of the gamekeeper was beckoning over the heads of all the other students, a banner of brown overcoat amidst the sea of black robes. Harry smiled and relaxed slightly. Seeing his large friend again made him feel somewhat safer. Even his whirling thoughts and feelings slowed and he felt warmth as the black eyes crinkled in an unseeable smile of recognition. As he led the other two (something he should have realized was unusual after Hermione taking charge so often on the train) Hagrid gave a cheery wave and wink at Harry as he finished shepherding the frightened looking eleven and twelve year olds to the shore of a large lake.

The lake was very dark, and Harry felt something prickling at his senses and the hair on his arms stood up. The lake looked glossy black, and yet Harry could feel something tugging on his consciousness, an almost memory niggling at the corner of his mind. Ignoring it for now he turned to Hermione and Neville but before he could ask them if they felt anything Hagrid spoke up," Alrigh' now everyone, four ter a boat. No pushing there in the back!"

Harry, Neville, and Hermione were joined by a freckled redhead with a smudge on his nose. He didn't notice at first who he was sitying with until Harry pushed hos wild hair back nervously as the boats glided across the water. Suddenly he yelped and pointed at Harry's forehead,"Blimey! You're Harry Potter!"

Harry shrugged, an odd feeling of ill ease at the reaction bubbling up inside his gut," And you are rocking the boat." Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered,"Honestly Harry," while Neville snorted. The boy's ears went pink and he stopped pointing but continued to gaze at Harry in awe and near reverence for a bit before his mouth went off before he could stop it.

"Do you remember what You-Know-Who looked like?"

Harry froze, the question causing him to subconsciously call up the events he could remember. A burst of blinding green light, and then a high, cold, cruel laugh. Harry shivered, but passed it off as a chill in the air by holding his arms over his chest.

"No, I don't."

The looks from Neville and Hermione seemed to silence the blue eyed idiot, and they spent a time in silence. The quiet was broken by several gasps as the fleet of small boats came around and gave the first view of Hogwarts castle. The many spires and turrets and towers certainly impressed Harry, but it was the feel of ancient power that he felt radiating off the old building that really called him, much like the first visit he made here.

_Harry stood beside the headmaster at the gates to an obviously old and very large property. Winged boars flanked the immensely large iron construct from atop pillars of stone. The size and grandeur were nothing though to the immeasureable aura of the place. Harry felt something stirring within him: a buzzing hum at some point within hin resonating with the intense magic surrounding the grounds of their destination._

_"Now Harry," Dumbledore started as he held his hand out to the large padlock and chains sealing the portal," I am going to bring you to see a friend of mine. She can help me determine how to best help you get back to top form."_

_Harry, momentarily distracted by the clink of chains retracting and the lock clicking apart to have half of it on each side of the opening gate, gazed back at the professor in confusion. "Sir," he said, still a bit wary around adults," I thought you said we were heading to the hospital?"_

_Dumbledore beamed at him,"Yes Harry, I did indeed say that. However, this friend is also a licensed Healer, which in our world Harry is much like a doctor in the muggle world. She not only is the Matron of the school's Hospital Wing, she is my personal Healer."_

_The elder man led Harry up a long drive, and Harry felt the sensation creeping higher up his spine and into his heart and mind. It was still a gentle hum, but he could... feel it? Sense it? He almost voiced a question to the Headmaster regarding the odd occurrence, but the presence(?) seemed to be generating a feeling of negativity to the notion. He felt surprised but when the hum started to lower into a soothing tickle at the pit of his stomache he relented. Somethings were best learned rather than explained after all._

_He instead voiced a different thought," It seems that you and Hagrid have been trying to keep me out of public sight, sir."_

_"A shrewd observation Harry. Yes," he nodded," I have done all in my power to keep you from open view. Tell me Harry, are you comfortable with people throwing themselves at you? With people trying to do things for you with no given reason? Or crowding you just to see you or shake your hand?" The old man shook his head at HRry's widened eyes. "My dear boy, from what I have seen of you of you are most intelligent. Why do you think I would stop such things from happening?"_

_Harry considered the prompt. Why would Albus Dumbledore seek to keep people from doing things for him? Wait he said with no "given" reason right? But that would mean,"You were trying to keep people from asking things of me?"_

_Dumbledore looked down at Harry in a very kindly way," Yes, and no." They were mounting stone steps now, the conversation taking them up to the very doors of a magnificent castle. Harry was too focused to really make note of this though. The imagery he spied in passing he was definately appreciative of, but his first and primary focal point was the headmaster,"I was trying to, and if I may be so bold to say, succeeding at keeping you from becoming beholden to anyone or anything Harry. I am most aggrieved to report that many people will clamor for your time, your image, your fame." He paused at the sour look on Harry's face and chuckled," I share your distaste for the position of celebrity Harry. I will only say this: be yourself and everyone will learn to leave you be."_

_A twinkle in his eyes of some mischief came to pass through and Harry frowned in confusion,"What is so funny sir?"_

_"Well Harry, most people seeing Hogwarts for the first time are a touch more excited, or at least less troubled by distracting old men perhaps?" His tone was gentle, but the words struck home and Harry whirled around on the spot. He took in the expansive grounds they had walked through in companionable conversation, the wooden hut with no light issuing forth, the dark canopy of the trees of a forest on the edge of the grounds behind the hut. He turned and saw greenhouses, vegetable patches, and a great lake, so vast he couldn't see the other shore. He gazed in open mouthed wonder before spying one of the nearby spires._

_He craned his head back, nearly toppling over in his investigations of the fqce of thw great building's architecture. Not that at eleven he could really appreciate it much more than an open mouthed "Wow..."_

Harry definitely felt as though this was how Hogwarts was meant to be seen the first time. The glowing lights behind the panes gave the ancient catle a sense of warmth and life. Of course this thought seemed amplified by the tickling of the odd feeling in a corner of his mind. The towering structure seemed to have some kind of effect on him and his bouts of what he was starting to get a bit worried over. Immediately he felt the calming sensation settle over him, and that presence in his mind seemed to reassure him. He was too distracted by everything happening and his first view of the castle as a student.

He heard the sharp intakes of breath and the red head mutter a weak,"Blimey!" as the little fleet of boats neared the castle.

Hagrid called out,"Lower yer heads!" and a soft rustling was heard as everyone ducked and robes were made to billow slightly in the movement. As Harry lifted his head he saw they were in a small cavelike dock, complete with flickering torches in wall sconces and a stern looking woman. The woman had on robes of black that were well pressed. Her eyes framd by square rimmed glasses were rather severe, and her black hair in a tight bun. Harry came to a conclusion that this was not a person to trifle with.

"I'll take then from here, Hagrid." Her glasses flashed in the torchlight as she turned and she said,"Follow me, please."

TMoD

Minerva McGonagall had spent over three decades of her life teaching at Hogwarts. She was considered a Master level Transfiguration, and she had thought she had seen it all in her time. However when little Harry Potter stepped off that boat she had felt something in the air. There was an uncertain shift when he entered the dock, as though the world had gone still and was waiting for his permission to turn again. It unsettled her as she went through her standard introduction to the school: Sorting into houses, the house point and house cup systems. All the while she could feel him staring at her. What made it even more unusually disturbing was the faint pulse of magic he gave off.

Harry Potter was immensely powerful. His barely contained aura was still leaking out gently, only noticeable to those who were either trained in reading magical auras or those like she who had lives around magic and wizards and witches in such quantities that she could pick out slight variances. This was no slight variance; Potter had more power than most members of staff right now. Minerva paused outside the doors, remembering Albus' words earlier that day at the staff meeting as she prepared to leave them to prepare the Sorting Hat.

_Albus Dumbledore stood at the head of a large table with all his staff present. Minerva, as Deputy Headmistress, sat to his right. Across from her was Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin House and her friendly rival in both Quidditch and the House Cup. He seemed a rouch grumpy lately, and though the younger man had been biased towards his house a bit he seemed like he was getting to be a bit foul tempered against her Lions the last few years._

_Before she could ponder these things too deeply Albus spoke up, his eyes twinkling as he addressed them,"Good afternoon Professors! I do hope you have all had splendid holidays and are fresh and ready for our new students. Before I bring up a very interesting development to recently happen, does anyone have any business they wish to discuss with the other faculty?"_

_Severus looked like he had swallowed a lemon whole, but stayed quiet. Unusual, Minerva noted to herself, nornally Snape was quick yo jump at a chance to complain in a very subtly snide and often sarcastic method about some other subject or professor. Albus waited for a moment while everyone looked at one another, but when nobody spoke he smiled brightly,"No business to discuss this time? Very well, I would like to address a rather delicate situation that I discovered over this past month."_

_Minerva was politely listening, ignoring the snort from the greasy Potions Master. "It has come to my attention that Harry Potter was not being well cared for by his relatives." Several female members of staff gasped in horror while Filius slipped off his chair in surprise. "I know that this may cone as a ahock to many of you," here he had locked eyes with Minerva, an apology in his lined face and piercing blue eyes," but I must address this so that you are all aware that this has had a dangerous effect on his mind."_

_The Headmaster bowed his head slightly,"Harry Potter must not be provoked. His mistretment has caused his magic to be unruly and very ties to his emotional state. I suggest a bout of powerful accidental wandless magic may occur if he is pressed in negative ways."_

_Severus had exploded,"So we coddle precious Potter? Preferrential treatment for the celebrity? I assure you Albus he will be treated in a manner I believe fair, no different than any other student."_

Minerva felt, upon her own experience, that Albus Dumbledore was in a much better line with things than Severus Snape.

TMoD

Harry and Hermione stood together, the red head who introduced himself as Ron Weasely was talking with Neville loudly about how his whole family were Gryffindors and he was sure that he'd be too. He was one of the few talking. Malfoy could be seen talking with two boys who looked like they were three years older than eveyone else by the sheer size of them. Most people had become quiet and nervous though. Harry himself was wondering about where he'd end up when he realized that he did have something in common with the Red Weasel: He wanted to be where his parents had been.

He wondered which house they had been in, allowing himself to be a cjild for a moment he imagined them, standing here and waiting to be sorted. He couln't picture their faces, but he could satisfy himself believing they may have been like he and Hermione. He looked sideways at the nervous girl and caught her mumbling spells under her breath in case she needed them during the sorting. He saw Neville, Looking pale and frightened, clearly terrified. He wondered briefly why he was less nervous and the hum of something resonating within him made him start: whatever thing was lurking in him was making him more at ease than he normally would be.

This revelation was cut short when McGonagall reappeared and spoke with her Scottish accent,"This way, please."

The upright woman led the group of terrified students up through an enormous hall. Harry found himself under the scrutiny of a couple hundred pairs of eyes, and were it not for the soothing presence he might well have started to panic. As it was he barely stopped himself trembling.

The crowd watched as they were trooped up to the front of the tables. Harry could do little more than walk nervously over to the designated point where they lined up next to a three legged stool with a very old, patched wizards hat lay. The crowded hall waited with baited breath: the elder students seemed to be anticipating something while the new students were sweating bullets trying to gauge what to do next. Amidst this all the hat began to move. What caused the tension to break was the hat starting to sing.

TMoD

As the hall sat in rapt attention to the hat extolling it's virtues, the houses of Hogwarts and their identifying characteristics, and giving reaaaurances to the new students one member of staff kept his eyes firmly on Harry Potter. Or perhaps it is better to say that it was not HIS eyes per se. Nevertheless, due to a combination of enchantments and charms a pair of eyes watched Potter closely.

The owner of the second pair of eyes had waited a long time to catch a second look at Potter, to investigate what made him the "hero" he had been. The boy seemed oddly at ease for a muggle raised child in such an illustrious magical establishment. Something seemed off about the boy, something that couldn't yet be articulated. This was not exactly troubling, but it would require some consideration. Perhaps a message to a known ally, a more liberated pawn. The time was coming when the truth of Harry Potter would be known; one way or another.

TMoD

Harry applauded weakly as the hat took a bow, moderately relieved that the hat was the only thing that was required. While he was through most of course books and could cast a few simple spells he was sure he'd have bollixed it up if he had to try in front of a crowded hall. Hermione seemed to radiate excitement next to him and Neville gave an audible sigh of relief from somewhere to his left.

As the sorting started Harry tried to gauge the reactions of the hat's decisions. Not only those of the house that recieved a new student, but the ones of the other houses. He didn't know if it was just him but whenever a student went to Gryffindor, as happened with Lavender Brown, the Slytherin table would make faces at each other and a few would sneer derisively. Conversely the Hufflepuffs would politely clap or smile, and the Ravenclaws would merely wait for the next name.

When a student went to Slytherin, like Millicent Bulstrode, many of the older students at each house would either wince or share knowing looks. Even the Hufflepuffs kind nature seemed a touch strained. The Ravenclaws would merely sigh, but sone Gryffindors would show outright hostillity.

Ravenclaws were largely ignored by Gryffindor and Slytherin, but then again they seemed rather aloof to the young Potter. When the recieved a new student like Terry Boot they would cheer for a bit and welcome the person, but Harry noticed it was usual very cordial and short. A bit detached almost.

Hufflepuffs were generally overlooked, but they seemed oblivious to that slight. In fact, they were so warm and open with their new arrivals like Susan Bones and Justin Finch-Fletchly that Harry almost wanted to join them for that reason alone. Their steadfast approval of everyone at their table made him feel like maybe they had it right.

He watched Hermione stride quickly to the stool and jam the hat onto her head. He watched with intense interest as she seemed deep in thought. A few seconds went by and the hat called out,"GRYFFINDOR!"

Her cheer was rather substantial as she was one of the fastest sorted and that must clearly mean that she was true Gryffindor material. Harry saw the twins and a black boy slide down to make room for her at the table as she walked proudly and happily to the scarlet and gold table. Harry saw her consider the place, and since it was next to the eldest Weasely she went ahead and sat. He figured she'd talk to the eldest Weasely if the troublemaking twins were too much for her.

Soon, almost too soon, he was listening to Professor McGonagall call out,"Potter, Harry!"

The black haired boy walked slowly, aware that the usual silence between a name being called and the hat calling it's decision was shattered. Small mutterings and voices filled his walk. Surely the chair wasn't THAT far away?

"Did she say Harry Potter?"

"He's smaller than I imagined."

"Harry Potter! It's really him!"

On and on the other students went on until he arrived at the stool, during which the school went unnaturally quiet. It was as though they were waiting to aee what Harry 's qualities were, as though his inner being sharing similarities to theirs would somehow validate their entire way of life. He had a strange urge to flee it all, but he glanced nervously at Hermione and Neville, both ensconsed at the Gryffindor table and watching him with wide eyes.

He sat on the stool and Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head. It was large enough that it covered his eyes, glasses and all. It was all rather pointless and slightly foolish, he thought. Now what was he supposed to do?

"Well Mister Potter," the hat's voice sounded inside his head, coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time," You could start by letting me take a good look in your head."


	10. Sorting

Harry almost toppled off the stool. Did the hat just talk to him? A soft chuckle enveloped his mind, coming from said hat. "Yes Mr. Potter I spoke to you. I was enchanted by my owner at the beginning of Hogwarts, to help sort the students."

_Odd,_ thought Harry,_ it doesn't seem over a thousand years old. Wait a moment; I didn't say that out loud!_

__"No you did not, young one." The hat seemed a bit amused now. "Though you are the first to comment on my age. But we digress, I am afraid I must ask to look through your mind. I can then identify which qualities best suit you so that you end up with those of similar disposition."

Figuring he may as well speak in his head so he didn't look ridiculous talking to a hat, Harry thought,

_Forgive me if I seem rude Mister Hat, but can I ask why you have to poke about my head to sort me?_

The hat sighed sadly, "The qualities inherent in you and all students that enter this school are varied and different. For example: a person who values bravery and daring would best be placed in a group of like-minded people and who will accept that person and their values. Let us then say that person was placed instead with a group of people who believed cunning and tact were more important. What do you believe would happen, Harry?"

_The same person would be treated like he was not as good as the rest?_

__"Yes. And yet, I must sort every year." Harry noticed the hat sounded unhappy with this. He realized suddenly why.

_You don't think sorting is a very good idea, do you?_

The hat seemed a bit uncertain by Harry's reckoning but spoke ,"Well child, I am bound by duty to divide the students into houses, yet the divide in the houses is what troubles me."

TMoD

While Harry was left to puzzle this out the hat shifted and examined his magic. What he saw almost caused him to pop his poor old seams: a wild, chaotic ocean of power churned through Harry. While many had cores that developed over time Harry seemed almost to be made of magic. His body coursed with the arcane power, and as he closely watched he managed to make out what seemed to be the equivalent of a magical vascular system. The magic tied into his body. He saw what amounted to rivers and tributaries that the vast sea of magic fed raging through the boy like blood through his veins.

The magic hat felt awe, for while the power was intense and a touch untamed, it was beautiful. Then the artifact was aware of a new presence, a resonance between Harry's magic and its own. As the connection stabilized the hat became aware of something, something so impossible, so incredible, so unheard of he had to make his call.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

TMoD

Harry heard the hat call out his new house and gently lifted it off his head. He used equal care when returning it to Professor McGonagall, whose eyebrows only rose the barest fraction of an inch. When Harry turned he found the hall had exploded into whistles and cheers and screams of adulation and a few groans of disappointment. The sound very nearly hurt it was so loud.

He quickly strode as fast as his eleven year old legs would without running and sat between Hermione and Neville. His two friends gave him smiles, Hermione's a bit smug and Neville's shy. The twins were still shouting until a stern, "Silence, please." from McGonagall got everyone seated and still.

Harry was still getting slaps on the back until the next name was called. Finally left in peace he watched the sorting passively, contemplating the hat's words. He didn't know what it meant by "divide in the houses", but he was sure that if it bothered a magic hat, then maybe it was something to watch for. He figured if nothing else, his housemates seemed a decent lot.

TMoD

What Harry was unaware of was the twinkling eyes of Albus Dumbledore set fondly on him. He had taken a liking to Harry beyond the scope of the prophecy. The injured young boy had a good amount of his pain and burden because he had failed to act. He had not known when he apparated to the cottage in Godric's Hollow that he was coming to the scene of a double murder. He had found, to his sorrow, the bodies of the two Potters and a crying child in pain. He did remember feeling strange, powerful and ancient Magicks surrounding the child, along with the scar of dark magic.

He had come across both Lily's and James' journals. He remembered reading their desperation. They were in regular contact with Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and Frank and Alice Longbottom, who were well defended by the family wards at Augusta's request. He allowed a moment to grieve two remarkable minds, broken by Voldemort's followers.

He then continued his recollections, reading the two diaries had led him to piece together bits of what the ancient Magicks were, but their full extent was indecipherable. The notes were not complete, and the full works they were based upon had been destroyed in a random accident within the Department of Mysteries. The headmaster followed that dead-end up by trying to root out the rituals used by Lily, for much ancient magick was very ritualistic. The full rituals were far more powerful and lasting in comparison to their modern wand wielding spell counterparts. Dumbledore had manage to break down parts of the Arithmetical formula from the notes, and it was these effects he had based his decision to place Harry with Petunia Dursley nee Evans.

How he loathed himself for that misstep. He nearly destroyed the very person who saved the Wizarding world! He was not the "greatest wizard alive" by coincidence, and as such knew that eventually he too would have succumbed to the twisted man styling himself Lord Voldemort. He knew Harry had saved him as much as anyone else. This coupled with the state of Harry when he had first seen the poor lad, well the waste bin in that parlour at the Leaky Cauldron could testify to his unsettled nerves. He should have checked on Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew! He may have been able to save the poor bumbling man from Black.

But wait, something wasn't right there. But as soon as he focused on it, the idea vanished and he found himself standing. He smiled at the now sorted and seated assembly of students, "Welcome to Hogwarts! For those of you returning: Welcome back! I trust you are hungry now, so this old man will just say, 'Tuck in'."

TMoD

Harry was as impressed and awed by the various types of and quantity of food that suddenly appeared on the table. He reached for a bowl of mashed potatoes and a plate of roast beef while to his left Hermione was adding steamed vegetables and to his right Neville was looking at a shepherd's pie and waiting his turn. However a clanking of teeth on silverware had made the three pause before eating. It wasn't the sound itself that was unusual, no it was the fact that when the fork was withdrawn, an amount of spit, potatoes, gravy, and chicken were drawn out of the over-full mouth. It then went and proceeded to get more food before the mouth finished chewing its massive first bite!

Ron Weasley was shoving the second bite in his mouth when three noises of disgust must have caught his attention. "Wha? I'b a grobin' boy!" he said defensively to Harry's horror, Hermione's disapproval, and Neville's bewilderment.

"Ron," Hermione said, "the food won't leave your plate-"

"Unless one of us hexes it off,"

"Harry! Not helping!" Hermione glared at aforementioned wizard who shrugged. Sighing she looked at Ron again, who was giving Harry a bit of a nervous look. Maybe he honestly believed Harry'd try. "Look, try slowing down and CHEWING your food Ronald. It'll help you enjoy the food."

Harry leaned over to Neville, "Not like anyone else can enjoy it when you're going barbarian trying to conquer a plate of Yorkshire pudding."

Neville choked on a laugh as Ron went pink, but did start to take smaller bites and chew a touch more than before. Pleased by his quick acquiescence the three others also steadily ate through the food until the main course vanished off the plates to be replaced by desserts. Plates of treacle and bowls of gelatin, pudding, ice cream and various fruits appeared on the tables.

Harry helped himself to a plate of treacle, and was about to take a bite when he caught sight of a frown from a matronly woman wearing a white hat. He saw the straps of her white apron over her brown robes and winced. He recalled her rather insistent argument from their first meeting.

_Poppy Pomfrey had seemed a nice enough woman when Dumbledore had introduced her. Harry soon found out that Madame Pomfrey the school matron and Albus Dumbledore's personal Healer was quite a different person._

_Harry fidgeted slightly, his eyes closed as Madame Pomfrey began to cast various diagnostic charms. he felt something odd, but figured it was just the spells doing their intended function. He kept his eyes closed as she clucked her tongue disapprovingly, "Well Mister Potter, one of the first things I need you to do is eat properly."_

_Harry simply opened his eyes and looked at her questioningly. She sighed and shook her head, "Your body needs nutrition, it appears that you have been neglecting fruits and vegetables. A touch more grains would be far from amiss."_

_Harry cleared his throat nervously, "Um, not to sound rude Madame Pomfrey, but I am eating a bit better, isn't there a vitamin I can take?"_

_Madame Pomfrey pursed her lips,"You could take Supplemental Solution with breakfast, but I warn you Mister Potter, they are rather unpleasant to taste."_

_Dumbledore gave a very aggrieved nod (diminished slightly by a wink of his twinkling eyes) and added,"I personally feel it in your best interest to try both adding a healthy serving of fruit and vegetable as well as take the potion Harry. That way you learn that to avoid the unfortunately flavored drink you must eat a balanced meal."_

_Pomfrey nodded in agreement, "Really Mister Potter that is the wisest course. The potion will help your body recover while the food you eat during your stay at Hogwarts will promote your growth."_

_Harry didn't like not having a choice in the matter, "So I can't choose my own food?"_

_Albus chuckled while Pomfrey softened a bit, "You may eat whatever you wish, but I do insist on at least a portion of it being fruit or vegetable."_

_Seeing this was the best he'd get, Harry nodded._

_****_Harry grudgingly added a bit of fruit salad to his plate, and saw the stern woman give him a very slight nod. Hermione looked between the Matron and Harry in confusion. Seeing this, Harry gave her a smile. He had quite enough on his mind to be getting on with.

TMoD

Hermione was a bit disconcerted that Harry seemed to know a member of staff. Ever the inquisitive one, she decided she wanted see if she could to know Harry a bit better than the passing friendship they had. He seemed so unusual in his normality. Yet he seemed to have much more beneath his surface. Harry Potter was a mystery to be solved, and one Hermione Granger was up to the challenge!

Before she had a chance to question him, what with dessert and questioning the prefect about classes, the uneaten food melted off the plates and tables. The whole hall quieted down. She turned, as did the rest of the students when Dumbledore stood up.

"Now that we are all nicely filled with another fabulous feast there are a few things to discuss." Here he steepled his fingers and smiled,"All students should be aware that dueling in the corridors is strictly prohibited, as well as the list of items the caretaker Mr. Filch has available. It is posted outside his office."

_Well, I should definitely have a look at that! Don't want to get in trouble and get expelled. There are rules for a reason after all._

"Also students would do well to remember that the Forbidden Forrest is, as the name would suggest, forbidden. This year it is also wise to avoid the third floor corridor, unless you wish to experience a most unpleasant demise."

Hermione was stunned: the headmaster remarking about the possible deaths of students in such a manner? The seriousness of the situation made her resolve to not cross the authorities of the staff for certain!

Suddenly Dumbledore clapped his hands together once, his eyes twinkling and a merry tone in his last words, "Now I'm sure you all will want a full night's rest before classes begin. Prefects," here the eldest redhead near Harry swelled importantly, "please escort the first years to their dormitories. Good night."

TMoD

As the last students left the hall Dumbledore gave a flick with his wand. Though to say the wand was his may have been in the past tense, or so Albus Dumbledore was coming to believe. The wand worked for him, did perform marvelously as it had, yet there was a nearly unnoticeable difference. The wand worked well with his magic yes, but he had felt the shift from the wand giving its allegiance to it giving acceptance. To some who knew little of these branches of wand lore, which was already a faint and dying art, there may appear no difference at all. Yet Dumbledore had been in correspondence with a noted wand maker discussing such things as wand lore, and Mr. Olivander had been thrilled to have such in depth discussion with a scholar of Dumbledore's prestige.

The conclusion of the discussion, which had begun only that week, was that the wand had reacted to something or someone. A magical signature had come in close enough proximity that the wand had recognised it's next true master, had accepted the current witch or wizard (Ever cautious Albus had left it theoretical after building the question in Olivander's mind through their prior discussions the past month, under the pretext of amazement at Harry's wand) until such a time as its master would claim it.

Ah but the problems this could cause! Was Harry the true Master, come at last to claim what was his due? The cloak already was his, passed through generations. He had traced thegenealogy of the Potters to before Hogwarts, and before they were Potter they were Peverell, and before that? Time cannot say, but Albus suspected that there may be some connection to the founders.

Afterall, Gryffindor was not heard of or recognised as a house until Hogwarts was founded. The founders themselves, he believed, all used pseudonyms for their titles. How else would their names all have alliteration AND an animal relevance? Too many coincidences. He had traced the house of Gaunt back to Slytherin, but then at Salazar there was a loss of parentage. The other three were traced a bit less thoroughly. But there is a lack of evidence to support any theory he came up with.

All this was abject thought, and Albus shelved his personal musings to address the staff before they turned in. "My friends and colleagues, I wish to discuss the students and ways to ward off the corridor. While we do have a pair of," his eyes twinkled merrily," ingenious rule breakers," he allowed a few seconds for the mutters and chuckles to die down. It seemed the twin-terrors of third year were already being met with wariness after their initial years.

"I believe we need to seriously consider warding both the hallway as well as the door itself, and enchanting the staircases that lead to the corridor to skip it."

Flitwick gave a nod and said in his high voice, "I think that wisest Albus, and I will charm the staircases myself this evening."

McGonagall gave a short but approving nod to the headmaster, "I am glad to see you are taking this seriously Albus. I will work with Fillius and together we will manage to erect redirecting wards and perhaps a few others if they prove necessary. For the door itself perhaps a mild Stinging Hex on the handle, combined with a Confundus Charm to make them forget the reason they tried to enter in the first place."

Albus beamed at Minerva and exclaimed, "Such a sensible set of spells selected." She groaned and rubbed her temples in reply.

TMoD

When Albus settled down into his office an hour later, he looked up at the hat sitting on the shelf. "I have a feeling, old friend, that there is a bee in your bonnet?"

The rip/mouth seemed to grimace, "Oh you are too funny headmaster, but tell me: were I to have a war of words with you would I not win by simple fact that I am no more than hat?"

Albus chuckled, and the hat went on," I need to let you know about a strange phenomenon. One I have never encountered in a thousand years."

Albus became serious in a flash, his poor humor thankfully laid aside," Am I safe to assume that this is in due partly with the young Mr. Potter?"

The top of the hat bowed slightly in its apparent mimicry of an acknowledging nod. "Oddly enough Headmaster it does concern our friend. I wonder when you will ever get around to changing my lining."

At that seeming no-sequitur Albus cast a look at the hat, and it had never felt such a piercing gaze. "Surely my time has been filled lately. Perhaps it best that we take care of that."

Albus gave his wand a flick, not the Elder Wand but his own, and what appeared to be a translucent bubble filled the room. It conformed to the shape of his office in seconds, creating a sound and sight proof bubble that could only be disrupted from within. Safely ensconced in his now perfectly secure office he sat back in his chair and steeped his index fingers. "Now we may leave the droll façade behind and speak plainly."

The hat sighed (if such a thing were discernible),"I apologize for the precautions Headmaster. However this must stay between us and the esteemed former Headmasters."

"Oh, remembered us? So nice to be appreciated by an ancient accessory." A waspish and oily voice sneered from the wall.

"This is not the time for sniping or rudeness Phineas." Albus admonished, his eyes twinkling a bit brighter. "There is much to discuss and we have all night should it be necessary. Now, please," he shifted from the painting of the sallow and thin former Headmaster back to the hat, "share your discovery."


	11. Explanations

AN - Hey you lot, been a long time. Sorry about the wait, but here is a new and edited chapter from myself and those excellent betas.

_Harry_,_ Neville, Hermione, and Ron were all following the group of first years who were following Percy Weasley up to Gryffindor Tower. The group were talking about the castle itself,a topic that Hermione was surprised to discovered her copy of Hogwarts a History had a few holes in. The castle itself was said to be enchanted, but there were hardly any details! The book was the newest edition and yet it only said that?! At least a few details were available, like the suits of armor and staircases being able to move about. She decided to elaborate with a point she had read about to the nearest people._

_"The staircases have no set pattern to their movements you know," she told a sleepy Harry and an indifferent Ron._

_Neville seemed interested though and asked curiously,"How do you know Hermione?"_

_"I read it in Hogwarts a History Neville," she said, with a smug look at his awe. "If you're interested in learning a bit about where you plan on living for three-quarters of a year you should take the time to research it you know."_

_"Why on earth would you read about a _school_?" Ron asked tiredly," Honestly, I just met you and I already question your sanity."_

_Ron's inflection removed her smug smile, and Harry again caught a flash of hurt from Hermione before she cooled her gaze,"Well Ronald, at least I will be able to handle finding my classes before they end!"_

_Ron gave a half-hearted shrug," You know, I can tell already you aren't any fun. I bet there're suits of armour around here with more personality than you."_

_Harry had just stepped off the marble staircase and saw Hermione, eyes blazing, stomping away with Neville hurrying to keep up. He felt his irritation grow and a faint buzz in the back of his head as he started forward. Suddenly a short yell came from behind him. Harry whirled, his wand out and his heart pounding as the yell broke off with a sickening crunch. "Ron?!"_

_The youngest Weasley boy had fallen face first on the marble staircase, and then the stairs had folded in on themselves and turned into a slide! Ron slid, facedown, all the way down the newly transformed stairs and when he reached the lower landing skid a bit farther before falling still. Harry, panicked and called,"Help! Someone's been hurt at the stairs!"_

_He turned at the sound of running feet and saw Percy Weasley running towards him with his wand out as well. "Potter? Who's hurt? Why is your wand out?"_

_Harry looked at his wand and put it back in his pocket, suddenly feeling foolish. What did he expect to do anyway? He knew no magic that could fix the stairs. "Ron's hurt, he fell down the stairs after they suddenly changed!"_

TMoD

Harry Potter woke early the next day. He was excited to start his classes yes, but more over he wanted to learn to control his magic. He winced a bit, not from the stretching he was doing but from the memory of Ron Weasley's accident the night before. The following situation had been a bit better at least.

Harry had been relieved that Ron was okay after Percy revived him. Percy had carefully gone down a floor, utilizing the hand rail to balance, after he had fruitlessly cast a counter jinx and tried several variations of transfigurations trying to restore the stairs. He'd had to surrender to the unthinkable - he had failed to complete a task. It did get Harry off the hook though, the surrounding portraits did help with their testimony to McGonagall that Harry had not drawn his wand until after he ran back to help.

When it was just his head of house and himself Harry had asked to speak with Professor Dumbledore. McGonagall, correctly interpreting his desire to be related to the events transpired, led him to a rather formidable looking gargoyle that sprang out of her way as the headmaster appeared.

After explaining that Potter had witnessed an incident involving Ronald Weasley and had wished to speak to him McGonagall left to check on the incapacitated Ron. Dumbledore had invited Harry to come with him to his office. McGonagall, seeing she would not be needed further, bade them a good night. Her hard lines softened slightly when she said," I hope that this shock hasn't made you feel unsafe Mister Potter. If you ever have to speak to someone, I will keep my door open as it is to all Gryffindors." With that she left the pair standing by the open passageway to the headmaster's study.

Before Harry could move past feeling grateful to McGonagall to awkward about the situation Dumbledore spoke up," Come now Harry, let us retire to my office. We don't want to keep the poor Gargoyle waiting any longer."

He gestured for Harry to follow him, then stood on what appeared to be a moving staircase. Harry marveled at the steady motion as they spiraled ever further up. The staircase ended in a door with a bronze knocker, but it had opened soundlessly at Dumbledore's approach.

The office itself was an amazing sight: silver instruments, some emitting puffs of smoke, some spinning but all very delicate in design, littered the spaces on shelves not full of books. The polished desk was mostly clear but for a few of the devices, mostly by the adjacent bookshelf and all on the Headmaster's side of the desk. He gestured to the chair opposite him, and took his own seat as Harry made himself comfortable.

"Now Harry, what is it you wish to talk about?" Dumbledore asked, his voice sounding relaxed and light, but Harry felt Dumbledore's whole attention focused so thoroughly upon him that he was momentarily disconcerted. He marshalled his thoughts and rallied together a coherent train of thought.

"Sir," he hesitated slightly, but no buzzing happened, just a slight mellow sensation in that deep place inside him. "I think... sir I think that I caused the stairs to morph into that slide." He was vulnerable, the last vestige of innocence: causing harm to others. Dumbledore recognized it, but couldn't truly deny Harry's part in it.

Albus Dumbledore took a short pause before asking in a firm but not unkind way," Why do you believe that Harry?" He needed to know how aware Harry was of his power.

The Boy-Who-Lived seemed to struggle with words for a moment before he said, "Sir, Professor I felt something inside me react to Ron, in a way.." he trailed off, unsure and Dumbledore decided to step in.

"Harry, you possess a very unique ability." He was gentle and spoke with certainty as he looked at the young child. "This ability allows your immense magic to reach out and influence ambient magic. Your frustration with young Ronald caused your magic to react and thus, Hogwarts reacted." He gave a small smile at Harry's dumbfounded expression. "This school houses immensely powerful and ancient magic Harry. It felt your power and reacted to you because of your special gift. I suspect you have felt something different in that part of you than when the incident with Mister Weasley occurred?" He asked with no small measure of curiosity.

Harry's eyes widened," Yes! It is different, but how did you know about..?" He was feeling conflicted about this new power, and his distaste for hurting others made him leery of something he couldn't control. What if he accidentally hurt a teacher? Another student? A friend? Was he really the freak that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia called him?

"Harry, the Sorting Hat has felt your ability first hand." Harry's attention snapped over to the elder wizard in shock. "Yes, it was unable to enter your mind like most pupils it encountered. At first it believed you were using a form of Occlumency, but that proved false when it felt that your magic had started to _reach_ for its own."

Harry frowned, his brows furrowed in concentration, "So that means that my magic is trying to take over the magic of others?" That settled it. He'd either be institutionalized or exiled to the muggle world. He couldn't end up some magic thief!

All this stopped when he heard the chuckling laughter of the man with him. He looked at Dumbledore in surprise.

"Harry, you are not the first to have this power. I have studied up on your ability and can say with confidence that not only are you going to be able to control this power but you also shall be able to perform advanced magic at a young age!"

Harry felt a new sensation, or a very old one, as he saw the pride and confidence his Headmaster had for him: a sense of comfort. Dumbledore had in less than an hour walked him through his emotions, and the kindness and openness he had shown Harry was almost overwhelming.

"I can help you focus your gift another day though, my dear boy, for it is growing later by the second. Come by my office after dinner tomorrow night. We shall start your education then."

He sighed quietly while looking briefly at Ron, snoring away in his bunk. He envied the red headed boy. He knew from last night that many people were too intimidated to approach him, and those who did were normally a little jittery. He had no family, no home, two tenuous friends, and Albus Dumbledore.

He heard a slight snuffle as Neville sat up, rubbing his eyes blearily. Harry looked at Neville but said nothing. After a moment he decided he'd rather head to breakfast alone. He finished knotting his trainers and was out the door before Neville was aware enough to notice he was awake.

However his plan for a solitary trek to breakfast was interrupted by a brown mane intercepting him at the base of the stairs to the boys dormitory. "Good morning Harry, up early as well?"

Hermione was imperiously inspecting his school robes and hat as if it were her duty. "You forgot your bag Harry. How do you expect to succeed if you aren't ready?" She scolded.

Harry looked at her, a bit frustrated at the criticism when his first thoughts had not been pleasant that morning to begin with. "Hermione, I don't know which books to take because I don't know what classes to take books for. I planned to come back here to pack my books into my bag after finding out which ones I'll need."

She simply sniffed, turning towards the portrait hole that led out of the circular common room, "I packed all my books, since you never know when one might be required. After all, if a reference is made in class isn't nice to be able to flip through the appropriate text?"

Harry shook his head in minor annoyance, but she didn't know about his perfect memory, and at the rate she was going their friendship may never progress past "friendly acquaintance". He followed her out, the pair turning to their courses for a neutral subject as if by silent agreement.

TMoD

Albus Dumbledore had few worse evenings in his remembrance. Since scuttling his plans involving Harry and the prophecy, combined with the evening's discussion about his potential ward's abilities, he had almost literally flown by the seat of his pants. Calculating risks and setting up meetings was usually no difficulty, and trifling in importance.

However when Cornelius Fudge got wind that Harry Potter was looking for accommodations beyond his family he had waited until Harry had left and put a block on the Apprenticeship and custodial papers. The resulting delay caused Walden MacNair to overhear a clerk asking her friend about the Boy-Who-Lived. MacNair in turn told Lucius Malfoy, who immediately went to Fudge and requested an open guardianship trial where those with the ability to care for the boy would make their cases (alongside a substantial gold investment in Fudge's pocket). The discussion was heard by Arthur Weasley and Amelia Bones while the pair walked by her office. The circle completed with Albus being written by Arthur that Amelia had told her old friend Augusta and the pair had agreed to make a case for custody as well.

All well and good, if Harry were to be granted custody to either they would at least let him say what was on his mind. If he were to end up with Lucius on the other hand... Well that particular issue would be hard to overcome. Thus he had made arrangements: He had floo'd to Madame Bones first.

The discussion had gone in a bit of a circle, with Amelia asking why Albus wanted custody and Albus in turn asking her to explain her motives. Conceding position to Albus, she relented:

"Honestly Dumbledore I want to give Potter a chance at a regular life." She started, rubbing the place where her monocle went at during office hours. "The lad has had a rough lot, and I am willing to bet as you saw fit to remove him from his relations yourself I may only just be scratching the surface." Her hard look made his smile seem slightly less jovial, and he instead steepled his fingers and nodded. Seeing no forthright communications coming, she asked bluntly,"Will you tell me why you want him as a ward? You never seemed interested in children of your own."

"You see, I believe," the wizened wizard stated, "that Harry has immeasurable potential Amelia, and while I have enjoyed a long and industrious life filled with achievement, it has been made clear that I make mistakes. Some of which involved Mister Potter. I feel I can help him harness and hone his abilities. I also know Wizard law and culture. It is more of an apology to Harry, Lily and James. I wish to help the boy I nearly abandoned."

Amelia nodded agreement, "I understand Dumbledore, truly I do. But you are a busy man. Certainly even you must admit that the likelihood of you having the necessary time is quite remote."

Time to reveal a little of his hand to gain ground then," Amelia," he said soberly, the twinkle in his brighter than usual, "It is my intention to invoke Apprenticeship for young Harry."

Amelia Bones's eyes widened, shock in every feature. "Albus that practice hasn't been used in over two centuries. There are reasons why it fell to the wayside!"

Her shock had been short-lived, replaced now with suspicion. "Why take an apprentice Dumbledore? Why Potter? What is your game, you never take a risk like this unless you're sure." Amelia was shrewd, calculating, but compassionate. Clearly this new revelation was a lot to take in.

Dumbledore gave a sigh, "I know Amelia. I am not going to play games. He is going to be attending Hogwarts, and he'll be spending his summers with me in advanced studies. All within the laws concerning Apprenticeship." He gave her a shrewd smile, "As for my reasons why, part of it is to leave a legacy. As you say, I have no children. My brother is not on the best of terms with me. I have nobody close to me. I wish to give my knowledge and skills to the next generation." He had spoken in a matter-of-fact way, but his tone spoke the underlying message - I want to leave the world without this regret.

She nodded in understanding. She gave her niece as much of her attention and time as she could for a similar reason. But this crafty old man had more up his sleeves than his wrinkled arm, "Dumbledore, we both know that you are almost untouchable." She then sharpened her gaze, "however," he felt a slight sense of tension, "you cannot give Potter the life he needs." She stood, prompting him to stand as well. "Even if you get Apprentice Rights, I plan to apply for guardianship. You can teach him to survive, Dumbledore, but I can teach him to live."

TMoD

_The previous night_

Vernon Dursley grumbled at the knock on his door, "Who the hell would be calling at this hour?" Petunia scowled, his foul mood darkening her's, and set down her teacup. Duddykins and her husband needed their rest! Who dare disturb them while he recovered from surgery!

"I'll get the door Vernon. You rest." Honestly she was still concerned for his health after the strain those freaks put on him. He was still a little shaken. I mean honestly! Who wouldn't be so worked up? He had a right to rest. She opened the front door fully intending to tear up whoever had come down after 11 at night. All her fury died at her throat. She paled as an oily voice said, "May I come in?"

Severus Snape didn't wait for a reply. He pointed his wand at her and she was thrown back. He had angled it so she would slam into the sofa. As she bounced to the ground he heard two sets of heavy footfalls on the stairs. He sneered as he used a full body bind on Petunia. As her body snapped into a rigid board-like state, Snape wheeled around and fired a pair of Stunners. With a series of bangs and thuds two overweight males, one young and one old, crumpled at the base of the stairs they had fallen halfway down.

A muffled shriek from Petunia made Severus smile at her, his black orbs looking more savage than they had in many years. "Why Petunia, I'm only getting started." He wordlessly levitated the obese pair into the living room. He had been careful when he cursed her to make sure that she would be propped against the sofa.

As his only love's family, he had made a promise to Lily's grave that he would never come after her relations without good reason. He let the two fall to the ground and said in a silken voice, "You could have lived here peacefully, your pathetic life full of meaningless drivel. Your greatest concern finding clothing for the walrus and whale you call family. But," he said delicately, "you decided to take your hatred of my world out on an innocent child." His voice shifted to a softer whisper, one that made Petunia wish she could shiver.

"I think we need to rectify this imbalance."

Having no fear of the Ministry Sensors, he used a quick Reviving Charm on the two males. They were groggy enough that he managed to Imperious Vernon without effort. With a mental command he sent Vernon stalking off upstairs. Dudley simply whimpered and tried (and failed) to appear small. This merely caused Snape to give a sadistic smile to the boy, who was rather pathetic with his whining.

"Mum! Why is he here? What's going on?" He sniveled as if about to cry. Snape reached into his cloak and pulled out a crystal vial of clear liquid.

"Boy, if you wish to save your mother you need to place three drops of this on both of your tongues. If you do this I will release her from her current predicament."

Dudley caught the little bottle in his pudgy hands and immediately opened it. He held it over his mother's mouth, but Snape cut him off, "Imbecile! Open her mouth first!"

He pointed his wand at her and he released her head from the curse. Her hate tinged with horror she cried, "No Duddley!" But the boy, terrified of the magic more than his mother's fear, complied with Snape. Soon he and she had been dosed with the tasteless potion. Vernon returned with a heavy leather belt he's used on Harry several times whenever he'd accidentally used magic just as Snape snatched the bottle back from the tearful boy.

He released Petunia, and she plopped onto her bony bottom. Snape directed his wand at Dudley and a foot stool appeared in front of him. Even in her terrified state Petunia noticed it was directly beneath the ceiling fan. Her apprehension grew as Snape smiled darkly.

"Are you familiar with the game 'hangman'?"

"Yes," both Petunia and Dudley found themselves answering despite their desire to remain silent.

"Good, then you both will have a basic idea of my game. But first we need to have a taste of humility." His voice was soft, yet carried such malice that the two flinched.

"Boy!" Vernon barked as he glared at Dudley. His son paled, "you are in for it this time!" He advanced on Dudley, belt in hand.


	12. The Hard Truth

AN - I made up my own class schedule, this isn't too unusual from my perusing of the site. The Dursley segment is concluded. As always I thank DrStranger, excellent grammar. I hope you enjoy!

Vernon Dursley stood panting over his son. Dudley, once a pampered snot, lay curled as much as his obese body could. It had only taken three strikes of the belt to make him roll up like he'd seen his cousin do. The remaining seven had merely been emphasis. Dudley needed to learn the consequences of his actions. Every strike was preceded by Vernon shouting at Dudley it was for one of his faults.

"This is for bullying other children!"

Smack!

"This is for being greedy!"

Smack!

"This is for all the selfishness we've had to put up with!"

Smack!

Snape stood finishing the fastening of a noose around Petunia's neck. He paused, his dark eyes cold, calculating. He gave a nonverbal command through his curse and Vernon spat on his son before stalking off to stand by his wife.

Petunia, bound wrist and ankle as well as at the throat, cried piteously. Snape called sharply, "Boy! Is this you first beating?"

A raspy, "Yes."

Snape glared at Petunia. His vengeance was not yet done. No, he was nowhere near done. He withdrew a bottle of brilliant blue liquid out of his pocket and sneered at her, "This is a very rare poison, not found naturally in this region. This poison will melt flesh, but at a verifiably agonizing rate. If applied externally. If ingested it corrodes the organs and muscles, eventually releasing the acid of the stomach into the body. This will cause an immensely painful demise that will take up to half an hour." He whispered in her ear as he caressed a cheek.

"Fitting for your rotten husband."

Forced against her will by the Veritaserum she spoke the truth,

"Yes."

The vial actually contained a potion used primarily in Saint Mungo's on patients who wanted to break bad habits. During the brewing he had added ingredients designed to force the Dursley's to change from bigots who obsessed with themselves into something more like a blank slate. Used in conjunction with Legilimency and Confundus Charms he'd be able to remake the Dursley's into anyone he wanted.

All in good time. He hadn't finished playing yet.

He still held the 'poison' in his left hand. He tapped the noose around Petunia's neck with the wand in his right hand and it immediately became taut.

"Now we play a little game." Snape gestured curtly at the cursed Vernon, "He will ask a question. If I dislike your reply I will tap the rope and it will tighten. You'll need to stand on the stool, facing the boy." He didn't dignify Dudley with his name.

Petunia was levitated onto the cushioned step stool, facing Dudley and Vernon. The insanity of the situation and watching her husband hitting their son had tears streaking down her face. Vernon snapped at her, making her flinch, "Why did you abuse our nephew?"

"He deserved it. He was not normal. He should've stayed in his world."

The noose tightened and she found herself standing straighter.

"Do you hate him because of who he is, what he represents, or what he is?" An edge crept into Vernon's voice.

"All of those. He is my sister's son, a reminder of what I couldn't ever be. A look in his eyes made me want to gouge them out." Pause for breath. "He represented that world, and he mocked me. He is an abomination."

She was forced to balance on the balls of her feet. Dudley looked up from his whimpering, shocked at these revelations that his mother was _jealous_ of the freak. He was confused and didn't know what to make of it, but kept quiet.

Vernon's beet red face hissed out the next question:

"Are you sorry?"

"Yes."

A silence followed. It stretched a few seconds before his sharp eyes narrowed.

"Why?"

"Because it cost me my family. Because it didn't change anything. I still loved my sister, and could've done better for her. Because I am about to die knowing I deserve it." Her voice was strained. The rope was leaving bright red marks on her neck. Her face was stained with a mixture of tears and discoloration from lack of oxygen. Her eyes were popping, bulging in her face. They showed remorse and suffering.

_Mercy, thine is a fickle hand._

He handed Vernon the vial. He turned to Dudley and pointed his wand at him, a simple Stunning Spell knocking him out. He turned to Petunia and he had a question of his own. He asked in a smooth, silky voice that was more terrifying than Vernon's overt hostility.

"If I offered you a second chance, would you be willing to do as I say?"

A pause. Brief seconds turned into a very quiet, "Yes."

When Severus Snape Disapparated out of Number Four Privet Drive he left a very different family behind. He had spared Petunia and the child on condition she raise him with a kind but firm hand. Dudley would try harder in school and learn a way to vent his anger properly. They were mostly innocent to be fair.

Vernon Dursley would go to work the next morning, and tragically die after losing control of his vehicle and driving off a bridge. His life insurance would provide his family a way out of the negative backlash. They would live frugally until the boy made something of himself in life, if ever that happened.

None of the three would remember Snape's presence. All signs had faded, any damage repaired.

TMoD

Breakfast in the Great Hall was quite different, even for early risers like Harry and Hermione. The gray morning sky above mimicked by the ceiling gave the impression that they were eating outside. Some teachers had also risen early, including Flitwick and McGonagall. There were few other students of lower years, though it seemed a few older students were prone to waking at dawn.

Harry and Hermione made it to the Gryffindor table in a bit of a huff. Hermione, taking charge type she was, was insisting on bossing Harry around after a while. She had insisted in no uncertain terms that he needed to be more prepared for class.

"After all," she had lectured, "what will the teachers think if you are going to be constantly unprepared Harry?"

It was at this point that Harry decided he would be nice to Hermione, but he wouldn't bother with opening up. He just got his life, he wanted to keep it his own.

So while they portioned eggs, sausages, and toast onto their plates Harry was quiet. Hermione prattled on obliviously, her excitement showing in her chattiness. Sadly she wouldn't notice her friend seemingly ignoring her while focusing on his meal. The hall filled slowly over the next quarter hour, and more of the staff appeared as well. Neville arrived when Harry was getting himself an apple.

"Heya Harry, Hermione." Neville said, plopping down across from them. A couple of "Morning Neville"s later and they were all comfortably sharing breakfast. At least until a rustling, hooting cloud of birds arrived.

"It's how mail is delivered," Neville explained helpfully at the bewilderment of the two muggle raised. "Owl post is the most common form of communication at Hogwarts. In fact," he added, "most ministry notices and personal letters are delivered this way."

"You sure know a lot Neville," Harry said in awe of the cloud of swooping and hooting owls. Hermione was about to launch into what could have been an interrogation for more information when McGonagall appeared with their schedules.

"Today we have double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, then lunch, and Tranfiguration!" Hermione practically radiated enthusiasm. Harry perked up a bit as well, he was quite fascinated with Transfiguration as well.

Since Neville had left his bag back in the dormitory as well Harry decided to wait for him before walking back. Ron also joined them, saying he needed to get his books too. He seemed eager to start making up for his rough start. Harry shrugged, and the three boys made their way off with Hermione's sniff of, "Boys!" trailing them.

"So Harry, do you fly?" Ron asked him conversationally. "There's a flying lesson at some point this term, and I was wondering if you had ever tried it before."

Harry shook his head in the negative. His eyes brightened slightly though, "I actually have been looking forward to trying to fly though. How'd you know about the lesson?"

Ron couldn't help a smile, "My brothers Fred and George told me. You know they're in third year." He grew a little more energetic, "Once in a while we all play quidditch at home."

Harry asked his shy friend, "How about you Neville?"

Neville smiled feebly, "My gran wouldn't let me near a broomstick growing up. I'm a bit-"

Neville cut off with a yelp as he tripped over his own feet and toppled into a suit of armor. Ron and Harry both scrambled to the piled gauntlets, helmet, and greaves and tried to pull him out of the mess. Neville emerged, flaming pink but unharmed. He decided to finish his statement, "-clumsy." His sheepish expression didn't make them laugh, though Harry was a but surprised by Ron. Maybe he could give it a try, but just a try.

TMoD

Herbology, while similar to gardening, was made more interesting by Professor Sprout and her obvious love of her subject. Even though they only be covered basic safety and the course outline for term, Harry and Hermione were both rather surprised by Neville's interest. He seemed to like Professor Sprout and by the end of the lesson was seemingly pretty into giving the Herbology class a place in his favorites. Granted Harry and Hermione had paid attention, Hermione even writing copious notes, but Neville had seemed to enjoy the atmosphere in the greenhouses. So it was a fairly uneventful morning for the Gryffindors, but that would soon change.

After a lunch break, the first years students were seated before their head of house. The first thing she did was give them a strict ultimatum: Mess around in this class and you're out.

"Transfiguration is one of the complex and difficult branches of magic, and if you do not take this course seriously you will not pass." McGonagall had said, her most severe tone impressing upon them her seriousness as they took notes that were quite complicated. After they finished, she handed out matches to each student with the instruction to turn them into needles. It was a difficult task for most of the class, but with ten minutes left in the lesson Hermione managed to complete the task. Harry had watched her try after a frustrating attempt, and saw the exact movement of her wand; heard the enunciation she used. It burned into his perfect memory and even as McGonagall praised Hermione's accomplishment Harry tried the spell again, pouring all his focus into it.

Harry saw to his great astonishment that it had worked. He had a perfect sewing needle on his desk. What he didn't realize was that everyone else in the class now did too. There was an outcry of shock and amazement and a couple of triumph, believing the latest attempt had succeeded. Only two people noticed what had happened: Professor McGonagall and Hermione Granger. Both were momentarily stunned. McGonagall recovered first and went over to Harry's place between Hermione and Neville. The class quieted at the sound of her voice.

"Most impressive Mister Potter," she said into the deafening silence. "How did you manage to transfigure all of the matches?" She had, of course, felt his magic build before the spell. It had been incredible, a mounting wave of strong magic. However she needed to see if he had any clue about the raw power he posessed.

Harry frowned at her, confused. "I don't know what you mean Professor. I just transfigured my match."

She saw his honest confusion and said, "Very well, Mister Potter. Could you stay after class?" Harry nodded, still confused. McGonagall turned to Hermione, "Miss Granger, could you try to reverse your spell? The incantation is 'Finite'."

Hermione managed it on the first attempt. McGonagall smiled slightly, she was one to watch certainly. , "Excellent Miss Granger, five points to Gryffindor. Can you try the same on Mister Potter's needle?"

She did. Again. And then again. Her frustration was plain to see, and McGonagall stopped her after her fifth attempt, "That's enough Miss Granger, I honestly didn't expect you to. This particular spell is very powerfully cast. Only someone of greater power or immense skill could remove the spell from these match sticks. I believe Mister Potter simply tried too hard and overexerted on execution. Still, five points for completing your task Mister Potter."

The bell rang and everyone left in a whirlwind of whispering and excited chatter. Well everyone except Harry. McGonagall motioned Harry to come up to her desk. "Mister Potter, I think we need to discuss what happened here." At Harry's look of apprehension she softened slightly, "You don't need to look so worried, I'm trying to help you." She cleared her throat and launched into an explanation.

"You see, every so often there is a witch or wizard born with extraordinary magical powers. These people often become either famous or notorious. Headmaster Dumbledore is considered the most powerful wizard of his generation. Gellert Grindlewald is the counter to that. He was immensely powerful, and used his powers for terrible things. He took over most of Europe before the Headmaster dueled him and defeated him, ending his reign of evil. They were two such wizards.

I am beginning to believe that you also are one of these individuals Mister Potter." _Actually, I know it. _"It would explain how you managed to perform the spell almost irreversibly. We teachers can help you with controlling this power, but I will not lie to you: it will require some additional study to uh, tone down your spells." She gave him stern look when he seemed ready to protest. "I'm guessing that you were concentrating hard on your task, and that you wanted the match stick to become a needle. But instead of focusing solely on your own match stick the spell was powerful enough to affect any not already transfigured. That is why Miss Granger was able to revert her needle but not yours."

Harry sat, stunned. His magic was so strong he'd need extra lessons just to perform spells properly? McGonagall must have sensed his mood, for she stood up and told him in a much kinder voice, "Mister Potter, the power you possess is a gift. Once you can master it, and I personally will be helping whenever I am able, you will be quite amazed at what you can do. It is better we get you started on control sooner rather than later. It may not seem fair, but you _did_ correctly cast your spell. Just try to relax a little next time. My door is always open if you need to see or talk to me." Harry took this to mean his meeting was over and let himself out.

"How did you do that Harry?" Hermione was waiting outside the classroom and she looked intrigued.

Harry frowned at her, "Do what?"

"You know what Harry," Hermione said in an overly patient tone, "I couldn't remove the spell you cast."

Harry could almost see her increasing curiosity. He gave her an exasperated look, "Why does it matter? I'm not even sure what happened myself."

Hermione seemed slightly surprised by this. "But Harry, remember Malfoy and the train? You obviously used magic then and didn't even have your wand out."

Harry was a bit overwhelmed. This was too much for him, first Dumbledore and Hagrid, now McGonagall and Hermione? He felt expectations piling up around him. Instead of walking with Hermione to the great hall he told her he wanted to drop off his bag first and parted ways at the marble staircase.

He used the break from everyone to try and come to grips with his apparently difficult magic. Why, if he was so amazingly magical, had he never been looked in on by wizards? Why had Professor Dumbledore or the Ministry never come to call? Dozens of questions chased themselves through his head. Questions he had no answers to.

Halfway up the second flight of stairs a combination of his mental exhaustion and the increasingly familiar soothing sensation deep in the back of his mind helped him calm down. By the time he had dumped off his bag he was feeling a bit better. Harry wondered if his classmates were going to question him or just let him to his dinner.

When Harry entered the great hall a few minutes later he saw an open seat by Neville, who was sitting across from Hermione. Lavender Brown sat to her left, and Seamus Finnegan on her right. Ron was on Neville's other side, talking to Dean Thomas. They quieted when Harry sat down. Hermione was still giving him an odd look, as though he were a difficult math problem. Seamus broke the ice, "So Harry, how'd you do that in class a bit ago? That was seriously cool."

Neville nodded with a look of awe, "Amazing."

Ron and Dean nodded agreement. Harry looked uncomfortable. "McGonagall reckons I just overdid it a little. That's all."

Ron snorted, "_A little_? That's like saying Hogwarts is a cottage mate."

Seamus looked a little disappointed, "I had thought maybe you were some kind of super powerful wizard."

Harry shrugged, "It might have even been accidental magic. Still don't have full control over ours yet. Only been a day of lessons." Not strictly true, but a good way to control rumors. He definitely didn't need people thinking he was some reincarnation of Merlin.

"Oh," Hermione said, softly enough that Harry almost missed it, "I hadn't considered that."

Talk turned from Harry's transfiguration mishap after that. After eating Harry went ahead of the others back to the common room. He was stopped by a familiar voice.

"Harry?" It was the Headmaster. Harry turned to him, surprised to run into him in the entrance hall.

"Yes, sir?"

Dumbledore smiled, "I just wanted to let you know that our lesson will take place at nine o'clock tomorrow night. This," he handed a note to Harry, "Is a pass to be out in the corridors. Meet me outside the entrance to my office."

Harry felt relief for the first time that day. Between the odd feelings in the back of his mind and feeling barely in control of his powers throughout the day, this would be a godsend. Especially after McGonagall's lecture about his apparent magical strength. If he could control this sensing magic power, then maybe he could control all of his magic. "I'm looking forward to it sir."

TMoD

Dumbledore left Harry at the marble staircase and turned toward his office. He had a very important and difficult meeting ahead. He would be speaking with Augusta Longbottom. She was quite the pugnacious woman, and she knew that Alice Longbottom was Harry's godmother. He would be hard pressed to deny her right to try and claim guardianship. Her case was as good if not stronger than Amelia's, and she held a place in the Wizengamut. But she was not Alice, and she would doubtless need to prove herself worthy of claiming that particular advantage.

Frank and Alice had become friends with Lily and James in a passing way at Hogwarts, but only after joining The Order of the Phoenix to oppose Voldemort had they bonded at a deeper level. While not on the level of closeness that James had with Lupin, Pettigrew, and Black, the Longbottoms developed a comraderie with the Potters. Both families had near scrapes with Death Eaters and even had escaped Voldemort himself. They shared a lot of things in common with Frank being an Auror, James a Hit Wizard, and both women being pregnant almost simultaneously.

Dumbledore was pulled from his ruminations by the sight of Professor McGonagall waiting for him beside the gargoyle that guarded the stairway leading up to his tower office. He greeted her with a smile and cheery, "Good evening Minerva. Is there some way I can help you this fine evening?"

"Yes, Albus. I would like to discuss something odd that occurred in my class. Might we be able to discuss this upstairs?" She said, and though she used her usual stern voice she seemed excited.

Dumbledore gave the password to the gargoyle and then said merrily, "After you, Professor."

When the pair had settled across from each other at his desk Dumbledore steepled his fingers and stared at McGonagall with vivid interest. "Now Minerva, what is it that has you looking so excited?"

McGonagall gave him a slight smile. "Well Albus, as you know I am versed in Auramancy." Dumbledore noddded. He knew well that she had learned the art of feeling magic, be it from a person or object. She was even partway through learning to see magical auras. Auramancy helped her intruct her students a lot more successfully in her difficult subject. It let her feel the minor problems with the building power and its release, allowing her to make observations and suggest improvements even if she could not directly see the problem. She continued, "In my first year class Miss Granger successfully managed to turn her matchstick into a sewing needle."

Dumbledore smiled, as a first year managing a transfiguration on the first day of lessons was quite the feat. When he prepared to speak, McGonagall continued instead. "After this, Mister Potter performed the same feat. But that's not all he did, Albus." McGonagall was very tense, her eyes bright behind her glasses, "Potter managed to change every stick in the entire class!"

Dumbledore looked momentarily stunned. However even this was not the last revelation. Harry's spell being strong enough to affect all the matches was astounding. "I showed Granger how to perform the 'Finite' spell to test a theory. After she successfully removed her own spell, I asked her to attempt the same to Potter's needle. She was unable! She couldn't revert the needle to a match! After the class I had to do it myself, and I had to reverse the transfiguration spell! The general 'Finite' was unable to remove it when I tried either!" She was clearly amazed and quite worked up.

Dumbledore leaned back and stared intently at his Deputy Headmistress. His passive Legilimency showed that this was true, unembellished, not that he'd doubt her. This was an even bigger shock than Harry's Magic Sensing and his magic intermingling with other magical objects. The type of power Harry was exhibiting was nearly of Morgana's, or even Merlin's level according to records of their youth. Certainly he was on level with Hogwarts' Founders. Even Dubledore, mighty as he was, would be at a loss against an adult Harry Potter if he were properly trained. He needed to take the boy as an Apprentice. He needed to form the Bond with him to teach him all he'll need to show him. Lessons will only cover so much, and there were too many things too important to be missed.

After a full minute of silence in which McGonagall impatiently waited for his reaction, Dumbledore spoke, "Minerva, I will be giving Harry private lessons. I will personally train him to control his magic. I will also be pressing harder at the Ministry to take Harry as my Apprentice. The Bond will be instrumental in helping him."

McGonagall, who was not privy to Dumbledore's intent on that front, was incredulous, "Are you certain Albus? You've never taken an Apprentice and were never interested in the practice before. While yes, it's true that the Bond involved will help you with understanding and training Potter, there is still the strain it will put on you Albus."

Dumbledore merely smiled at her, "I was preparing to leave for an appointment. Madame Longbottom will not be pleased with me if I arrive after my scheduled time."

"Then take care Albus." He didn't miss the many meanings behind that simple phrase.

TMoD

The Longbottoms had no need of massive or grand manor houses, being a relatively small family with only Neville representing the current generation. The previous generation was Frank Longbottom. The problem with Frank was that his body and mind had been shattered by followers of Lord Voldemort. His wife too had been tortured into madness. Alice had married into the Longbottom family, but she had also helped her husband and stood against the Death Eaters. Their incredible love had lasted into the madness. When they were admitted to Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies they had been unmanageable in their condition unless kept together.

This alone made Augusta Longbottom, Frank's mother, ache in that terrible way only a parent could. Alice and Frank had been everything to her. She knew that ache, horrible as it was, had the potential to destroy her. She had a reason to continue, a purpose that staved off her pain. Her grandson Neville had potential he had yet to tap into. She knew it. He was from incredibly gifted parents. But the boy's nerve was not there.

She had tried. Algernon had tried. Her brother had examined Neville once as a small child. Being an Unspeakable had its perks, and Algernon had been able to test Neville for magical potential. Algernon had said Neville could be quite the formidable wizard in time, and that was when it started: the surprise tactics, the scares, they'd even gone so far as to use sweet Enid, Algernon's wife and Augusta's sister-in-law, in the act that finally broke through. In the end only life threatening danger sparked Neville's magic. Exactly as the Unspeakable had expected.

Algernon had explained afterwards that what happened with Neville was a sign of a wizard with fighting prowess. Augusta had known that for years now. Her strictness, her harshness, and her exasperation were all attempts to make Neville develop a backbone. She was hard, but fair. He got treats, rewards for good behavior. And he was never severely punished. He had a respect for rules, but she had made sure that anytime he felt something or someone was more important that he needed to follow what his heart told him. She pushed him hard, trying to guide him down the path Frank took. She wanted to be sure if he had the ability that he be better prepared. If she were truly honest with herself, as she was right now, she'd say that she pushed him so as not to lose the last person she loved dearly.

The reason for her honesty was brushing himself free of ash before stepping from her fireplace with his eyes twinkling like stars. She was being honest because she needed to acknowledge the feelings she had towards the crooked nosed old dung stain before her; she honestly detested Albus Dumbledore. She hated him for his part in her family's destruction. Yet she also knew that while he wasn't worth a thimbleful of pixie piss, he was the better of two evils. He at least acted in times of crisis, unlike the Ministry.

"Headmaster," she greeted him cordially, if slightly stiffly, "please have a seat. Would you care for any refreshments? Tea or biscuits?" She may think him as foul as stinksap, but alas! A guest is still a guest.

"No, no, Madame Longbottom." That serene smile had always irked her. He didn't ever seem wrongfooted. As though he could stand with his underpants on fire and his wand broken in two with that same look on his face, or that thrice damned sparkle in his eyes. "I am quite well. I only have need of your time and conversation. We do have a few things to discuss."

"I'm sure we do. Please sit, then. I feel this may be a rather drawn out affair." Augusta sat and simply stared at the elderly man, waiting for him to start.

Dumbledore sat gracefully, leaning back appreciatively in the armchair. He had a look of curiosity. She supposed it was the air of a scholar. "Madame Longbottom I am here, as I am sure Madame Bones has told you, about Harry Potter."

"Let me stop you there Dumbledore." Augusta cut in sharply, "Amelia told me of your conversation. Apprenticeship at your age is not wise, and adding to that that you seek Guardianship? You are more the fool than I thought." She said it without malice, simply stating her opinion. "The Bonding or strain of it will kill you. You are not invincible, nor are you _infallible _either." Her subtle inflection on "infallible" caused Dumbledore to raise an eyebrow and his smile to broaden.

"Dear me, you seem quite as informed as I expect Augusta. Very well, let us speak plainly. I wish to know why you plan to make a claim for Harry Potter. You know my reasons. I wish to know yours." He had made himself remarkably clear this time, something Augusta was not familiar with from Dumbledore after seeing his politics and manuevering over the years.

"I suppose you would." She said bluntly, "You want to know why I want to look after Potter? Simple: I see in him a lot of what my Neville is. I know the story. I know what happened to him. Tell me Dumbledore, the similarities between Neville and Harry are plain to you?"

He seemed to consider this, "There are remarkable similarities in their situations Augusta. I can see them as clearly as you do, I'm sure. However I wonder if you can discern the _differences_ between them?" His quiet reply made her glare at him heatedly.

"Do you honestly believe," she said in a voice far icier than her burning stare, "that I am unable to distinguish between the two boys? Of course they're different. Harry is a survivor, from what Amelia has speculated. If I had to wager, I'd say Harry is better off with those people who put him through whatever caused them to be unfit than with you."

First blood.

Albus Dumbledore gave a nod, his expression slightly more melancholy. "I made a terrible error when I sent those people a year old child and never checked on him. I suppose my hand is detectable in his early sufferings. I am seeking to rectify this, first by accepting responsibility for him. Harry needs to be trained to handle himself. I am sure that there are many in the world who seek to have some claim to our young Mister Potter. Many would claim him simply for the prestige."

Augusta acknowledged his point mentally, but couldn't help herself saying, "You have a habit of missing the trees in view of the forest." He seemed confused momentarily by the seemingly random saying, so she elaborated, "You use people Dumbledore, playing chessmaster with whoever the latest dark wizard is."

Dumbledore frowned now. "Augusta, we both know that Grindlewald and Voldemort," Augusta did not flinch, but her eyes brightened, "operated in secrecy. If I was a chessmaster it was because I was forced into playing by their rules. One does not simply walk up to a wizard of their calibre at whim. They were protected, hidden, using spells that prevented detection, made themselves nigh untraceable. I did what I had to to save innocent lives Augusta."

She snorted, "Like yours? How many years when Grindelwald rose to power did you cower in your castle? How many hundreds died while you ignored their pleas for help? You seemed perfectly content to allow innocent lives to be snuffed out then."

A chink the armor of Dumbledore's kindness. She saw the brief tightening around his eyes: Shame. Regret. Perhaps now it was time to press him.

"You would not only be a poor Guardian to the boy - a term meaning 'one who protects, guards, or is entrusted with something' - but you would be an even worse Master for Harry Potter."

A bit of a wanness crept into the smile he gave her, "You are certainly entitled to your opinion. I believe that I am uniquely suited to helping guide him along to unleashing his full potential. I will admit freely that had I acted sooner Grindlewald may have fallen before he tried to overturn the Statute of Secrecy. However I am not alone in blame for this. You are, it seems, determined to make me seem unfit. I stand by the assessment that I am better suited to at least teach Harry than a majority of the applicants aiming to raise Harry. You seem less inclined to discuss your reasons for adoption than your reasons to dislike myself."

Augusta lost her temper at last. She gave him a withering scowl,"If he became another you, became a coward who only used his strength when all his chess pieces were captured or broken, then he would be a _disgrace to his parents legacy!_" Her old cheeks were splotched with pink in her anger. Her passionate dislike and distrust of Dumbledore fueled her on, "He needs care and compassion! I am hard," she admitted, "but I am also one who understands his pains and sufferings! I am one who can relate to his losses! I am one who knows what it means to have loved ones torn from me by other people's actions!"

Dumbledore was not smiling anymore. He had a very stony expression on his lined face. When she finished her ranting he leaned forward and spoke in a very quiet, very clear voice. "Augusta, I see where you are going with this and where you are _coming from_." He stressed it delicately. "What happened to your family is a tragedy that gives you the scope and depth to understand Harry, it's true. I will not try to lie about it. However," his eyes flashed and a fiery light replaced the twinkle, "I also know you are not just doing this strictly for Harry's benefit. You distrust me, and I understand you not having a love for me personally after what transpired, and that is your motivation. It is clear to me Augusta that you intend to make certain I am not to have any sway or position in Harry's life except as nothing more than a teacher. Truth be told you'd prefer less." He added dryly at the end.

"I am not doing this to spite you," Augusta spat out the words in her anger. Being around him, being near him, made her blood boil. "I am doing this because Potter needs a family that he can learn from, be part of."

"That," Dumbledore said heavily, "is not the best of reasons Augusta. Amelia is far better suited to be a familial substitute than an embittered old widow whose hatred and grudges cloud her judgment and make her less understanding."

"I believe we're done here, Dumbledore." Augusta gave him a cold look. Her demeanor had gone from angry to dismissive. "I expect I'll see you and Potter at the hearing Saturday. It was arranged so he could attend. The matters of Guardianship and Apprenticeship are on the agenda. Hopefully, we will see a result that ends up in his best interests."

After Dumbledore had vanished in her floo, she crumpled. Bitter? Was she truly bitter about her family after eleven years? Had any good come from it? She thought hard about the past decade. In her mind she saw Neville and herself, spending time together when he was very small. Remembered how for a while she had lost her pain in pursuit of the child's happiness. Then remembered how hard she pushed Neville.

Algernon had advised against it. Had told her it would only make Neville more clumsy, more awkward, and it would make him fear her. She saw now how when he was old enough she had forced his father's wand on Neville, though it yielded poor results. Remembered her disappointment in thinking it meant he hadn't yet fully developed his powers. She knew every wizard was individual and had need of an individual wand. Surely though, if Neville was the son of its owner the wand would work as well for him?

She was starting to doubt. Doubt her treatment of Neville, and her own actions since that time. She was Regent Longbottom of House Longbottom. Head of a pureblood line that extended back generations. She knew, even if she personally disagreed with the practice, that her family had once been considered one of the Ancient and Noble houses. The Potters were rumored to be decendants of another of the Houses: Peverell. Both were incredibly old families, and the Potters had gotten so close to Frank and Alice that the women had named each other Godmother during the War with Voldemort.

Augusta sat bolt upright. She was Alice's mother-in-law. Alice couldn't take on the duty of Godmother. Black was in jail, though she didn't remember the trial. That left her. She was the only person with the link to Harry Potter that might make her his Guardian. But the problem was... She strode to the fireplace, snatching the floo powder from its jar, and threw it into the fire calling out, "The Bone's Yard!" Apparently it had been Amelia's husband's idea, a little joke. Irrelevant now, she needed Amelia.

She came to a stop in Amelia's sitting room hearth. She stepped lightly from it, calling for her friend. When Amelia entered Augusta said simply, "I need your help."

Bewildered, Amelia nevertheless ushered her friend to a seat and asked her as she too sat, "What is it, Augusta? What happened?"

"I think I may have had an epiphany regarding the Potter boy. There's a problem though. That old goat Dumbledore came to see me earlier. I need you to tell me something honestly Amelia Bones. I know I'm a hardliner, I keep my krups in a row. However, I need to know if you think I'm too hard on my grandson."

Amelia frowned, "I don't see that you have been anything but firm with him. He does have respect for you in any case. Why would that matter?"

Augusta's mouth was set in a grim smile, "Alice is Harry's Godmother."

Amelia's eyes widened, her monocle fell out. "But, then that means..."

"I thought that initially too," Augusta said," at first anyway. Then I realized something. If I am too dissimilar from Alice in demeanor," she chuckled as Alice was a lot softer than she was, "then I would be unable to make that claim in support of my case."

Amelia recovered and fixed her eyes on her friend, "That is true," Shock gone, her logical brain began to whirl. If Augusta was proven too far from Alice in demeanor than the claim was moot. Dumbledore was a hero of two wars with dark wizards who seemed unstoppable. He carried much clout in the Wizengamot. They would doubtless have a hard time dissuading Apprenticeship. Honestly Amelia was conflicted about that regardless of Dumbledore.

If they could prove Augusta was nurturing and able to relate to Harry, and if she made known that Alice is Harry's Godmother in the process, that would be a different game of Quidditch! Yes that would definitely bolster her case greatly. Amelia knew she had a fair case as well: her niece was Harry's age, in some of his classes. She was a Ministry employee, a department head. Money would be no problem for either of them, nor would space. Honestly Amelia's parenting skills were likely a little more modern, but it came down to Harry. What was in his best interests?


	13. Things to Come

Harry's second day of classes was hardly better than the first. In fact, the teacher in Charms Professor Flitwick fell off the books piled on his stool when he reached Harry's name on the roll. Harry felt embarrassed enough for them both at that point, but he said nothing and raised his hand. He then diligently took notes, not that he needed to with his eidetic memory. It just was a habit, but it helped with understanding what was being taught at any rate. Professor Flitwick was a merry sort, and he seemed to be perpetually in a good mood. He hadn't taught them any spells in that first lesson, and Harry was partially relieved for it. He did discuss the importance of proper wand care and motions as well as speaking with clear enunciation though.

"If you are not careful when using your wand you may cause either yourself or someone near you an injury." Flitwick had cautioned them in his squeeky voice. "The most important things to learn as a young wizard or witch is proper handling of your wand. If it is damaged you will run the risk of it malfunctioning, or even backfiring spells at the caster. And don't forget to speak clearly class. If you mispronounce an incantation it will often either not work or else release a burst of uncontrolled magic that could cause almost anything to happen. The same is true of wand motions, which can be rather complex. If you do not perform the correct motion you likely will not perform a spell at all."

Harry and Hermione put down everything tiny Flitwick told them as well as his notes he bewitched a bit of chalk to put on the blackboard. Ron seemed to be struggling to keep up with words as they appeared on the board, and poor Neville was looking lost. Harry could see he couldn't handle the pressure he had heaped onto himself, and resolved to help the kind faced boy whenever he could. He might not have a lot of faith in himself, but Harry thought, or rather had the feeling, that his friend was every bit as capable as he was. Hermione needed no help, and he was sure from the studious expression on her face that she was drinking in everything like a sponge. He just hoped to do as well.

They had no afternoon class, but rather Astronomy that evening with a woman named Professor Sinistra. She told them that they'd be learning the names of the planets and their moons. She covered the course ouline the first lesson, which was why they'd be out early instead of midnight. They would be alternated between notes and gazing at the sky through their telescopes, trying to differentiate by sight the different heavenly bodies.

Since they had to be inside their common room by eight in the evening the first lesson for Astronomy class wouldn't conflict with Harry's meeting with Dumbledore. Harry had been worried about it at first, then relieved when Professor Sinistra had told them late night viewing would be done with warning so they could rest beforehand. When she dismissed them at quarter til eight Harry parted ways with Neville, Hermione, and Ron at the base of the tall Astronomy Tower.

"I have a meeting with one of the Professors," he had said before quickly walking away. He had hoped to avoid questions by just saying "one of the Professors" and heading off before any questions were asked.

Harry had to hurry to reach the second floor corridor where the ugly gargoyle stood vigil outside the moving stair to Dumbledore's office. He had just made it with two minutes to spare and clutching at a stitch in his chest. Even with everything seeming to go right with the stairways moving in just the right ways and finding the right floor he had to go down several flights of stairs and across the castle to reach the place. As he caught his breath, massaging his ribs, the gargoyle suddenly jumped aside. The wall behind it slid back to reveal Dumbledore smiling down at him.

"Did you forget about meeting Harry? You seem a bit winded." Professor Dumbledore's twinkling eyes showed amusement, but the concern in his voice was noticeable as well, "Are you feeling well? Did something happen to postpone your arrival?"

Harry took a deep breath and straightened up. "No sir. It is just a long way to the Astronomy Tower. I almost didn't think I'd make it."

Dumbledore's eyes widened marginally, "Forgive me dear boy, I completely fogot that tonight was the first Astronomy lesson for First Year students. I have been rather preoccupied with preparations for this weekend. But we should move to the greater comfort of my office Harry, where you can relax a little better."

When they had ascended to the top of the stairs and the headmaster had offered Harry a comfortable seat in an extremely comfy armchair, a glass of water, and a moment to compose himself Dumbledore decided to go ahead and start.

"Harry, we will begin our lesson this evening with an explanation on the subjects of Auramancy, Magic Sight, and finally what I believe you have, which I believe is called in books "Meld" or "Touch". I only find reference to it the oldest texts, and never truly translatable. Before we delve into these things Harry I wish to ask you something. Are you experiencing any mood shifts or sudden feelings that are at odds or different with your feelings at the time." Dumbledore finished with a look at Harry that he felt was strikingly familiar to being x-rayed.

Harry thought of the little pulls and swoops and soothing sensations he felt at times. "Well Professor," he began, trying to find the right words, "I wouldn't say at odds but sometimes I do get strange feelings. Like a tickle in the back of my mind. Sometimes it feels like it's behind my navel, only deeper in me." Harry scrunched his face in concentration. "Sometimes it's kinda calming, that usually comes from my stomach. It makes me feel a little less nervous or anxious. Not really all that often since I haven't gotten really upset or nervous."

Dumbledore could tell Harry was having trouble with explaining his internal differences. He decided to try and help, "And what about if you are happy or angry? Are the feelings different?" He asked gently. His vivid blue eyes surveyed Harry iver his half-moon spectacles.

Harry nodded, albeit reluctantly. He seemed hesitant to discuss these particular feelings, but soldiered on, "Well, when I'm happy I get this sense of... well that everything is okay, and I'm okay with everything. When I get angry I have a faint buzzing, like a swarm of hornets in the back of my mind."

Dumbledore nodded gravely, as though Harry had confirmed a theory. "I believe I am beginning to see the full picture. Harry you possess an amount of raw magic that is, to be frank, astounding. A byproduct of your incredible magic is that you are able to feel it. It is a part of all wizards, but they are normally unaware of its presence in their minds, bodies, or spirits. Magic is not a sentient force, which is to say Harry that it doesn't think for itself, feel, or anything we consider to show intelligence. Magic is often tied to emotions, like your grief and guilt over what happened to Mister Weasley. Your emotions are using your magic as an extension of yourself. Your frustrations with Mister Weasley over his treatment of Miss Granger is an example of this."

Harry was silent for a long moment. Dumbledore seemed content to let him wrap his mind around this information. When Harry spoke a half minute later his voice was slow, as if he were thinking through the words as they came from him, "So that means that I'll need to learn how to control my emotions before I can control my power?"

"Not necessarily," Dumbledore said, "I think, and I hope you will come to believe, that the emotions you feel so powerfully are a strength. You could try and tame them, make them serve your needs. To do that will eventually leave you dulling them."

Harry considered this, and he wondered why if meant less people might get hurt accidentally.

Dumbledore gave him a smile, "Harry, you may think I am being unreasonable. Truthfully if I were concerned about creating a temporary solution I'd be more amenable with that course. However, it is far more important for your safety, and that of the other students, to teach you to control your gifts."

"For my safety? What do you mean?" Harry asked, a bit anxious.

"I mean that if you try to block off your power by stifling your emotions it will be damming up a river with a single stick. The force of your magic will burst from you whenever you become too emotionally provoked." Dumbledore had a terrible sadness in his lined face; his crystal blue eyes were far dimmer than Harry had ever yet seen. There hung about him an air of grief and guilt as he thought,_ Like my poor sister. Arianna, my greatest regret._

Harry looked down at his knees while Dumbledore seemed to contemplate him. This was all so confusing. Why was it so complicated? Harry had always imagined magic as a few swishes of his wand and the magic words. This whole thing about learning about seeing and feeling magic was entirely new to him. He didn't know if he was ever going to be able to just be normal. Dumbledore spoke, causing Harry to return his eyes to his headmaster's lined face.

"I am afraid we will have to wait for another time to actively practice Harry. There is something of immediate importance we should discuss."

"What is it sir?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore gave him a tired look, "I am afraid we must discuss what is to come this weekend. Saturday morning to be exact. We must head off to the Ministry for a hearing on your custody case. It appears I am not the only wizard in Britain interested in raising you."

_Definitely cursed,_ Harry thought miserably. He didn't want to be on display like cattle at auction. What was the point? He had been around wizards enough to know that most would only want him for the prestige of having "The Boy Who Lived" staying with them. Maybe supporting them. He and Dumbledore had discussed it when Dumbledore and he returned from the Ministry of Magic after the former had put in his guardianship request. Dumbledore had admitted this was a possibility then, so Harry was not exactly unsurprised it had come to this.

Still made him feel weary though.

"Sir," Harry started, "do you know who is going to be there?"

Dumbledore steepled his fingers and gave Harry a piercing look, "You may not know many of them Harry, but if it is what you desire to know, very well. There is myself, A woman named Amelia Bones who is head of the Magical Law Enforcement branch at the Ministry. Augusta Longbottom, an elderly witch with a firm backbone and a tragic history. And Lucius Malfoy, a man I believe is unsuited to look after the one child he and his wife have now." He looked at Harry, with a little surprise at the look of concentration on the boy's face.

"Amelia Bones wouldn't be related to Susan Bones of Hufflepuff would she?" Harry asked slowly, his mind supplying him with the memory of Susuan being sorted two days ago. "And isn't Augusta Longbottom related to Neville in my house Professor? And Mr. Malfoy I think I would rather dislike if his son is Draco Malfoy in my year as well."

Albus Dumbledore was pleasantly surpised that Harry had put it all together into his own perspective so quickly. Friends, acquantices, disliked people who had upset him. It made Dumbledore wonder if Harry Potter had any mental limitations, since he had displayed remarkable maturity and intelligence. Would he be a constant surprise? Dumbledore had a sneaking suspicion it was very likely.

"Yes Harry, those are correct assumptions." He smiled at the young Potter, "Miss Bones of Hufflepuff is indeed Amelia Bones' niece. Mister Longbottom is Augusta's grandson and Mister Malfoy is indeed Lucius Malfoy's son. I admit I am surprised at how quickly you thought of and how well you remembered, the students of your year." Dumbledore said.

Harry didn't return Dumbledore's smile but asked another question, "Professor, who do you think is good?"

"A rather ambiguously phrased question," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling while Harry reddened slightly in embarrassment. "I do know what you are asking me though, for youth often ask direct questions. Therefore my answer shall be as direct as I am able to make it." He paused to consider for a moment how best to answer. "Amelia is a strong woman who took in her niece when Voldemort murdered her husband, brother, and sister in law. She is busy, but always makes time for Susan and is very family oriented. Augusta is a woman who means well, but her stubborn streak and traditionalist attitude make her limited in her ability to understand people. As for Lucius," his face darkened, "he is a known practitioner of the Dark Arts, though he is rather adept at making it difficult to prove with his public displays of generosity and donations."

"The Malfoys are evil?" Harry asked, astounded that even here in this new world bad people were able to get away with it.

Dumbledore grew serious, "No Harry, not evil."

"But you just said,"

"I said," Dumbledore cut over Harry, "that they practiced the Dark Arts. There is a difference between evil and power hungry. The Malfoy family cares about status, power, and the so called purity of blood."

"Purity of blood?" Harry echoed, confused.

"It is a concept that has inspired much conflict in our world. Much like the Muggles have some people that think they are better than others because of their skin color, their jobs, the amount of money they have, so too do wizards have such patterns. Purebloods as they are called by many older families are wizards who can trace their lineage back as far history will allow and still have only wizarding relatives who all were also part of all wizard families as far back as they could trace. A Pureblood is considered to be better than half-blood or Muggleborn wizards and witches. It is made worse by our Ministry, who is made up predominantly of Purebloods in the highest offices."

Dumbledore paused, examining the look of confusion still plastered on Harry's face. He smiled kindly at the befuddled child. _Still too young to understand everything_, Dumbledore thought with a bit of relief. He was about to try another explanation when Harry asked him, "Why do Purebloods think their better? I don't get it Professor. Aren't we all wizards and witches?"

Dumbledore felt a stab of something in his heart. _Why can't all of us think this way? So innocent even after all the trauma of his youth? _He shook his head ruefully, "I wish it were so Harry. Purebloods believe magic should be kept to all magic families. They think halfbloods are weaker because they don't have two magical parents. Muggleborns are viewed as weakest since they have no magical parents." His simplified explanation seemed to get through to Harry, who looked somewhere between shocked and angry.

"Is that true Professor?" He asked Dumbledore, who shook his head 'no' and gave Harry a sad look.

"No Harry, there is no evidence this is true. If you wish to know, I myself am the son of a Muggleborn witch and a Pureblood wizard yet many Purebloods consider me a halfblood because of my mother's parents. You too are considered halfblooded. The only reason I tell you this is to prepare you for Saturday."

"Why would I need to know this Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked him. It seemed all this new information was only creating more questions. He just wanted to control his magic and restrain his powers, why did all of this happen to him? He felt overwhelmed again, and a small silver instrument on the headmaster's the begun to emit red puffs of smoke instead of the gray it had been.

Dumbledore gently placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, "I know this is a lot Harry. I want to keep you informed and prepared. This hearing will be a spectacle, and you need to know what is happening. If you are off your guard you may end up with the Malfoy family. They are a prestigous Pureblood family held in high regard. Lucius Malfoy even holds a position on the Hogwarts Board of Governors. They are as affluent as they are influential. They bribe people sometimes if they feel they need something they can't get themselves. The sad thing in this world Harry is that nearly everyone has a price. So I warn you, to let you know what is to come."

Harry calmed slightly, his overworked brain catching up with the information. He dimly noticed the smoked changing back to gray but didn't understand what it meant. He didn't much care now. He smiled weakly at Dumbledore, who returned it. "Well Professor, if Mister Malfoy is so likely to win, why tell me all this? What are we going to do?" He really didn't think much of what he had heard of the Malfoys. He rather would stay with Dumbledore or perhaps Madame Bones.

Dumbledore teinkled at him, "Harry, I am doing something. I am informing you. Did you believe your opinions would be irrelevant? It is your future home we'll be deciding. That would mean that your word will have some weight. How much, we do not know."

Harry relaxed further; he had a say. At least a little one, at any rate. It cheered him up a bit. "Professor," he began, "do you think your Apprenticeship thing will be affected?"

Dumbledore nodded, "Yes Harry. Both issues are to be resolved at the hearing. It'll make the most sense to have one hearing in two parts rather than two separate hearings. Also your guardian will be able to have a say in the Apprenticeship application as well. It is customary after all."

Harry, tired though he was, realized he didn't know yet what Apprenticeship was. "Professor Dumbledore, what is Apprenticeship?"

Dumbledore gave Harry a smile, "That is a very good question Harry. Apprenticeship is a practice traced back to the beginning of magic. In days long since past a wizard or witch would teach only one child all they knew. They would search for years to find a pupil that was both magical and young, for the ritual bonding the Witch or Wizard to the Apprentice was harder to perform the older the Apprentice. The pair then would embark on a long journey across the country, or more likely simply return to the Master's residence for instruction. The Bond allowed a Master to teach in ways that were hard to describe but had incredible results. However there is a degree of strain on both the Master and the Apprentice, but I assure you Harry it is nothing either of us can't handle," he added when he noticed Harry's expression. "The whole ritual will supposedly link us in some way so that I can better understand and teach you. In addition I will have a say in your education should I be your Master. You will slowly gain the knowledge I have amassed on any spell I decide to teach you."

Harry blinked. "That's amazing Professor!"

The idea of learning spells from Dumbledore was almost unbelievable, yet he had chosen to do this with Harry and only Harry.

"Can a person have more than one Apprentice?" Harry asked curiously.

"Oh Merlin no," Dumbledore answered. "Not unless the prospective Master wished to do him or herself great harm. The Bond requires much from the Master, Harry. It would kill someone if they attempted it with two pupils. Even I would die a most unpleasant way."

Harry looked at him, confused. "Why would you only make it so that wizards can have only one Apprentice? Wouldn't it be better for teachers if they could take their whole house?"

Dumbledore leaned back and gave Harry a smile. Harry noticed the lines around his face seemed lessened by it somehow. "The ritual we are speaking of Harry was before the time of schools or even of written history; a time when magic was only practiced by few. It was both valued and feared by Muggles. In the ancient times this was a way for the wizards to ensure that their knowledge did not get lost."

Harry asked curiously, "Why didn't they just make a school like Hogwarts? These ancient wizards, I mean."

"They had a hard time finding children with magic. It was hard to find a young witch or wizard who survived more than a few years in larger villages. I'm sad to say many were slain by fearful non magical families." Dumbledore said, and Harry saw the sadness in his shockingly blue eyes. He wondered at the expressiveness of the Headmaster's eyes for a moment, but only a moment before what he heard truly sank in.

Harry gave a wide eyed stare at Dumbledore, his shock great enough to stem the tide of disgust at the thought of killing little kids and babies. Dumbledore nodded in understanding. He continued in a softer voice, "In those days there was always a Dark Wizard or Witch attempting to slaughter their way through the land and amass wealth and power. The Dark Arts were not frowned upon as there was no wizard governing body. The magical people of the world were scattered and untrusting of each other. There were more practitioners of Dark Rites, Blood Magicks, Rituals of Sacrifice and many other terrible things than those who did not among Wizard kind. It was our Dark Age, Harry."

Harry nodded in understanding. He knew that Muggles had such a thing too; a period of great suffering and injustice. "So this ritual was a way for a wizard to pass on his knowledge to a younger wizard, and was designed for a single student since children were rare and the only ones trusted by the good wizards?" Harry asked, trying to keep it all straight in his head.

Dumbledore gave Harry a long look before admitting, "It was not originally used for teaching."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused again.

"I mean that it was a ritual used to drain away the strength of a wizard and transfer it to another." Dumbledore said heavily.

Harry sat up straight, his eyes slightly popping. "Allow me to elaborate." Dumbledore said quickly. "The original ritual was used on captured wizards to siphon away their knowledge and magic, leaving the enemy what we call a Squib, or a magic-less wizard. The one who started the ritual then not only disposed of an enemy but grew more powerful. It was fear of this which led to the studies of reversing it's effects. They proved for naught, and then a secondary solution was found. The ancient wizards opposed to the Dark Wizards decides to turn the ritual from a Dark one to a Ritual of Teaching. It became a great weapon of those against the use of Dark Magic. They could now train Apprentices and bleed their knowledge to them without losing it themselves. Of course, it was difficult and there were many deaths along the path that led to it. Eventually, after the Ministry of Magic formed and the International Confederation of Wizards the use of rituals became far less wide spread as wand lore spread throughout the world. The two rituals were banned for their power. The methods to perform it were obtained from those who knew it, then removed from their memories and placed in the deepest places of our Ministry as it had been developed in Britain. The rest is, as they say, history."

"If it's illegal why are we doing it professor?" Harry asked.

"I forgot to mention, pardon me dear boy. The ritual is legal only by ministry approval. So it is possible, but not many would choose to run the dangerous path these days. Now Harry," Dumbledore smiled at the boy he was finding so engaging, "perhaps it would be best if you went off to bed. Tomorrow is another day of new lessons and discovery."


	14. Confrontations

**AN: Many thanks to Dr Stranger, a wonderful and patient Beta. Thanks to those who follow and favorite this story, and especially my reviewers. You have given me so very much to think on and consider. As such, I'll be rewriting the first five or so chapters when I get the chance. There're things that need to be better. I lose many readers in those chapters. Anyways, thank you for everything.**

The rest of the week was fairly uneventful for the increasingly nervous Harry. With the prospect of his entire life being ruled by this one hearing it seemed that his mind had frozen up. He went through the motions of everyday life like talking with his fellow first years and taking notes in class. He remained this way through the week until Friday morning, when the Potion's Master forced Harry to the present.

"So the famous Potter has come to Hogwarts," Professor Snape said with a slightly twisted smile. Malfoy and a few other Slytherins sniggered, but Snape quieted them with a glance. His silent look carried more meaning than a reprimand, _This is my class and you will respect me! _"I have heard many things about you Potter, but allow me to make thing very clear to you: you may be famous beyond this classroom but in here you are just a student. If you want my respect then prove you deserve it."

His dark eyes never left Harry's. They were a pair of black holes that looked endlessly deep, and Harry realized that if he wanted to stay on Snape's good side he'd have to prove to Snape he was worth teaching. Something felt strange when he looked in Snape's eyes, there was something beneath the cold veneer. Harry blinked, and Snape looked over the rest of the class, "The same goes for all of you. In my class you will earn your grade by proving to me you can handle the work and aren't the usual bunch of blundering buffoons I usually have to teach."

His soft, silky voice was tinged with a bit of disbelief. As if he doubted they could rise to his expectations. Harry found himself wanting to rise to his challenge. He felt fully engaged for the first time in days, and he found himself hanging on to Snape's words about potions. "Many of you will believe potion making is hardly magic. The subtle skill of finding the right ingredients and exact science of brewing them to bring out their magical potential is not for everyone, but those who have the right disposition and mind will find they will learn that potion making is very much an artform among magic users. It requires no brandishing of a wand or foolish incantations. It is in the dancing flame and simmering cauldron that magic happens."

Harry was partnered to Neville for the class assignment of creating a boil curing solution. Snape had left the directions on the blackboard, and though Harry could recall them perfectly it seemed something about Snape made Neville nervous. Harry found out quickly that the more nervous Neville got, the more accident prone he became. Whenever Snape passed by in his billowing black robes, usually with a disparaging remark or a snide comment to whomever was around and not in his house, Neville would get more intimidated. Since Snape seemed to find something wrong with the pair of them he hovered in their area, but said nothing. This meant Harry was able to stop any disasters, but there were a few near misses.

"Whoa Neville!" Harry grabbed a red-faced Neville's wrist. "We add those after we take it off the flame. See that line in the instructions there?" He smiled at Neville's horrified expression. "Don't blame you for missing it, lots of steam in here." Harry let Neville go and extinguished the flames under the cauldron (they were using Neville's today) while Neville made sure he had the right amount of porcupine quills.

Snape seemed to have missed this little scene while he expounded on Malfoy's stewing of horned slugs. With Harry double checking their work and calming Neville with a quiet encouragement whenever Snape drew near; the pair progressed through the fairly simple potion with no mishaps.

Toward the end of the lesson Snape called to the class, "I am going to be coming around to inspect your work. You will wait quietly while I judge whether or not your concoctions are close enough to the actual potion to be recognizable. Let's start with Finnegan and Thomas."

Snape strode purposefully towards Seamus and Dean's cauldron the row behind Harry and Neville. "What is this supposed to be be?" He asked them in a cold voice.

Dean answered hesitantly, "It's the boil curing potion, sir." Snape standing over them had apparently made them both rather nervous.

Snape's dark eyes seemed sparkled maliciously. "You two made a couple of mistakes with this... mess. The flames were far too high and your slugs have been boiled rather than stewed, and you added the quills too late after removing it from the fire. This would likely be a more useful for _causing_ boils and pustules." Both boys fidgeted, and he gave them a disapproving frown, "You both will write a foot long essay explaining what went wrong and how to properly prepare your ingredients. To be handed in next lesson."

If anyone in the class had expected to be spared, they were mistaken. It seemed many Gryiffindirs were given extra homework versus the Slytherins. However even they suffered: Crabbe and Goyle had managed to get essays as well. Malfoy was hailed with having the proper aptitude for going far in the subject. It was then Ron and Hermione's turn.

When Snape peered into their cauldron he seemed to consider it closely. He ladeled up a bit and let it drip back into the rest, testing its consistency. He glanced at the pair, one rather grumpy looking red-head and an anxious burnette who was eagerly awaiting his verdict. Snape seemed to be measuring them up. "Weasley, what is the key ingredient in this potion?"

Ron looked apprehensive, made more pronounced with Hermione's hand in the air beside him and the sniggers coming from Draco Malfoy. "I-I'm not sure sir."

Snape seemed to have been expecting that and rounded on Hermione. "Granger, if I wish for you to answer a question then I will ask you. If I do not direct a question to you then refrain from attempting to answer it." Ron looked less apprehensive when he tried not to look like Snape had said something he agreed with. Harry on the other hand looked slightly upset with Snape's attitude. He watched quietly as Snape continued. "Whatever your personal shortcomings may be this potion has been brewed perfectly. Done precisely as the board stated. I may not appreciate your attitudes but I acknowledge good work. Weasely, I want a summary on the uses of porcupine quills in potions. Granger, heed my words about proper behavior in my class."

_So he's a hard-line like McGonnagal and even stricter on behavior, at least for Gryffindors_. Harry thought, slightly bitter by the blatant favoritism towards his own students. He watched Snape swish around to Neville's cauldron. As with Ron and Hermione, Snape gave their potion a thorough investigation. Poor Neville looked faint and was breathing very quickly. Harry wished he could help his friend, but before he could act Snape straightened.

He gave Neville a slightly disdainful look before addressing Harry, "Potter, when you stopped Longbottom from adding the quills early you prevented his cauldron from becoming a piece of scrap and the pair of you ending up in the Hospital Wing." His voice was silky, but there was no warmth in it. "Therefore you will not have an extra essay." He turned his coal black eyes on the hyperventilating Gryffindor next to Harry. "You Longbottom will give me an account of how many mistakes you tried to make and what the proper methods for brewing this potion are. Next time you may not have Potter as a partner to prevent you from doing harm to yourself or others." His cold voice was soft as Neville audibly gulped.

The bell rang before Snape could further terrify the frightened Neville. Snape glowered and gave them all homework as they packed up. There were mutinous grumbles as the Gryffindors trooped out of the dungeon classroom. Harry wasn't sure if he liked Professor Snape, but at least he didn't seem to dislike Harry either.

TMoD

When they and the Slytherins had left Snape closed the door with a snap, then turned to his desk. He hadn't sat all lesson, though he had wanted to. The reason why he had endured half an hour of walking around the classroom suddenly materialized on his chair.

"Well Severus," Albus Dumbledore said with a pleasant tone, "I see that last years complaints of favoritism are being handled. You are doing remarkably well considering how you usually treat Minerva's students."

Snape gave Dumbledore a twisted smile, "I have recently channeled my energies into a new hobby."

Dumbledore gave Snape a searching look. "What is this new past time of yours Severus? Collecting Chocolate Frog cards? Perhaps you have taken up ballroom dancing?" The twinkle in his blue eyes didn't seem quite as friendly as usual.

Snape continued giving his slightly wicked smile. "No, I am afraid I don't eat as many sweets as you headmaster, and I am already capable of waltzing. My hobby is a bit more work than that."

Dumbledore seemed to enjoy the guessing game if you looked on the surface, but his eyes were somehow slightly more focused than one would believe necessary for a simple game. "Gardening then? Pomona would be delighted to give you advice I'm certain."

Snape seemed to consider him. He knew exactly how far he could push Dumbledore. They were meeting in his classroom because there were no portraits or lessons for the rest of the day. Dumbledore wanted to speak of sensitive information, and would not tolerate this much longer. He waved his wand in the direction of the door, casting both an Imperturbable Charm and his own Muffliato spell. He hadn't finishing turning back to face Dumbledore when the older man started speaking.

"One of my hobbies is checking into unusual muggle deaths." Snape froze mid-turn. "I find sometimes that explanations of magical sources can sometimes be found to these sad events." When Snape forced himself to face Dumbledore he saw that there were no traces of good humor now. Dumbledore was not smiling. His eyes were hard, and though he spoke calmly Snape believed Dumbledore _knew _somehow what he'd done.

He dropped his smile so quickly that it might've never been there. He replied in a voice far less silky than usual, "I see. Then let us be frank Dumbledore." The older man straightened, fixing his intense gaze upon Snape. "I modified the boy's relatives' dispositions. The mother, while bitter and spiteful, was remorseful. As for the child, he was mostly influenced by his father. They will move elsewhere and start over."

"Why did you kill Vernon Dursley?" Dumbledore was looking far from the kindly Headmaster or the stoic Supreme Mugwump or the venerable Chief Warlock. He appeared to be reaching the end of his patience judging from the thinly veiled anger in his voice and the coldness in his expression. Snape merely looked back into the face of the most dangerous wizard alive, but chose his words carefully.

"You are the one who gives second chances." Snape was talking very quietly now, "I have tried to be a better person ever since, since _she_ died," Snape swallowed the lump of pain that arose whenever he spoke of Lily Evans, "but this was a direct insult to her and her legacy." Snape added with a bit more emotion, "As well as every wizard and witch who was saved by the fall of the Dark Lord!" He paused to calm himself before continuing, "He led the family in cruelty and neglect. Starving a helpless child? Beating him? For what Dumbledore? Because the boy couldn't control his magic? Because he had magic at all?" He gave Dumbledore a very hard look, much like he had received earlier, "This is why I put the command that if he could not accept his nephew's magic he would drive off a bridge."

Dumbledore contemplated him as the Supreme Mugwump might a prisoner pleading parole. Snape's arguments had found purchase, and he knew it. It was why he had used the modification potions and compulsion charms on the great oaf in the first place. He knew the only way to justify the death of Vernon Dursley to Albus Dumbledore was to play by a variant of Dumbledore's rules. By giving Vernon Dursley the ability to change before the command to either accept his nephew or kill himself he had thought he would be largely blameless in Dumbledore's eyes. A risky gamble with a dangerous gambling partner.

Dumbledore gave Snape a pointed look, still undecided. Snape dared say no more. Finally, Dumbledore spoke, "If I were to use the same procedure on you with Sirius Black or Remus Lupin right after the incident that almost killed you, would you be alive now?"

Snape didn't answer. Grudges ran deep in him. He gave Dumbledore no outward sign of reply. He could've been made of stone he had gone so still. Dumbledore let the silence stretch again, but as he received no response the older wizard continued, "If I had given you the option to live if you saved James Potter's life when Voldemort came for him and his family to destroy their child, knowing you'd rather cause the death of the man rather than prevent it, would you be alive or in a grave by James and Lily?" Snape flinched, a spasm of pain twisting his features at the mention of his one love's fate. Dumbledore paid no heed to his grief, pressing him, "Do you believe yourself a god, Severus Snape? Able to decide which qualities are worthy of death? These are the actions of a Death Eater; the embodiment of everything Lily despised."

Snape swore as he reached for his wand. "How dare you!" He snarled viciously as he pointed his wand at Dumbledore. His eyes were popping, veins pulsing visibly in his neck as he faced down the older wizard. Dumbledore had his own wand in hand, but Snape ignored this and tried to curse Dumbledore, only to find himself disarmed and immobile. He stood, trapped in place by the Freezing Charm. His black eyes burned into Dumbledore, who calmly caught the flying wand as it neared him, then holding it as a fencer would his dagger.

"You have always had a nasty temper Severus," he chided. Snape continued to glare as Dumbledore surveyed him. "I will release you, but you will explain yourself."

Instantly Snape felt the spell lift, but he didn't move. When he responded his answer filled with bitter savageness, "You ask if I believe myself God, yet I would ask you the same thing. You, who hide behind your duties until your pieces are in line to swoop in, the glorified savior?" Dumbledore looked as though Snape had slapped him. Snape built momentum off the stunned look on Dumbledore's face, "I may be a man who makes hard choices, Albus, but at least I make them when I must! I came to you in my darkest hour of need, when I had nowhere to turn. I chose to betray my friends, my master, my beliefs! And what price did I pay for your help, headmaster? I gave up my freedom!" Snape was working up to a rage, his pent up emotions finally breaking loose after over a decade of repression. "You had me turn on those whom I had once trusted, who trusted me. I gave you information on the Dark Lord and how did you repay me? By breaking your word to me! By allowing her to die!"

Dumbledore looked ready to object at this claim, but Snape was too far gone in his emotions to pause long enough to let him. "After that, I was ready to die, to join her in death. You insisted I could help her still by living. That I could do what she died attempting. You told me we were going to honor her last wish by protecting her son. Her last legacy. I agreed. I spent ten years doing all I could to overcome my hatred of the boy's father. Challenged my every belief. Worked to become more like you. I stopped working Dark Magic. I stopped allowing people to suffer needlessly if it was within my power to do so. And what is the first thing I discover about the boy we both agreed to help and protect Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore didn't answer. "That he spent the same decade in suffering! He spent that time being abused physically as well as emotionally stunted and neglected! Had I been a man of lesser intuition I'd go so far as to say you were trying to keep him down to control him with your kindness when he arrived! That you used those relatives to keep him downtrodden and compliant so you could be the awe inspiring hero he always dreamed of. No doubt you'd have moulded him into a tool to defeat the Dark Lord should he reawaken to his full strength. You probably even had his death planned out to the epic final confrontation!"

Snape threw back his head in mirthless laughter. The laughter died when he saw the stiffness in Dumbledore's posture. His eyes widened in shock. "It's true!? You planned to use the boy, manipulate him with your promises of kindness and talk of compassion while leading him to his death? Never explaining, never training him, just letting him go off his own bravery and cunning? You planned to do enough to bend him to your way of thinking and nothing more, other than a standard education?"

He regarded Dumbledore with disgust and disdain. "I do regret a life lost, but I have never let a man die that I couldn't save with every skill I possess! Can you say the same?" He snarled at Dumbledore with his lip curling. "I grow tired of your double standards. It is time I do things as I believe I must. I won't be your opposite, treating the boy horribly so you can expound on the importance of forgiveness. I won't be your scapegoat to teach him to hate the Dark Arts. I will act in what I think is in the boy's best interests from now on."

Dumbledore stood and faced Snape, who did not flinch now. He had known that his gamble had a price if he lost, but Dumbledore gambling the last thing in this world he couldn't replace would be nigh unforgivable. Dumbledore's expression was unreadable. "I see what you have done Severus." There was a note of understanding in his voice that momentarily surprised Snape. "I see it clearer than you might at this time. You spared their lives, only if they could do what they had chosen not to. I see the repercussions to both yourself and the wider world." He sighed heavily, "I will not say Vernon Dursley is a great loss. I believe the world a better place without his irrational hatred." Dumbledore started to pace behind the desk, breaking eye contact. He seemed to have made up his mind about whatever he had been thinking of, and now seemed to be thinking of the best way to continue. "I know what you have gone through, are going through, because I have gone through it myself."

Snape looked absolutely stunned. Before he could recover Dumbledore stopped pacing and continued in a very quiet voice, "When I was seventeen and fresh out of Hogwarts I received a letter that changed my life. It was a notification of my mother's death. I rushed back to my family home. I decided to take up the mantle of head of house. Before long, though, I began to feel shackled to my responsibilities. I yearned for a freedom from my worries and burden. I researched everything concerning death and resurrection I could before I hit a wall. This left me two options. The first, and most sensible, consisted of shouldering my duty and accepting my mother's fate. The second was to look into the Dark Arts for a way to restore my family so I could be the bright star I had been at Hogwarts once more. Can you guess which I chose?"

Snape didn't answer. "I delved deeply into Necromancy, searched through ancient tomes and volumes that I ordered anonymously. I spent a lot of time, effort, and gold in the pursuit. Soon though, I became distracted. There were rituals in one book, Dark Rites that could increase the invoker's strength, reflexes, life span, mental acuity, even one's magical power."

The black eyes staring at Dumbledore widened in recognition. Dumbledore nodded darkly, "I see you understand the implication. I needed two things in these rituals I could not get easily. Human blood and organs. I didn't kill anyone," Dumbledore clarified with a measure of defensiveness. "My wade through the Dark Arts did not snuff out my conscience completely. I resorted to stealing from the nearby Muggle hospital. They keep blood and organs so that Muggle doctors can replace failing organs and lost blood. After gaining the benefits of these rituals I found myself craving more. My mind was sharper, in greater focus than ever before. My body flowed with magic that felt greater than I had ever dreamed. My agility and fortitude were such I felt I could duel every Auror in the Ministry with no break between. And I wanted more."

Dumbledore was speaking so softly now that Snape was straining to hear this confession from a man believed to be pure as the fresh fallen snow. "I sank deeper, fell faster into the darkness. Then, a something happened. Something that made the me believe I was following the right path. It is not widely known that Gellert Grindelwald is related to Bathilda Bagshot, a neighbor of my deceased mother. He was the same age as I, so when dear old Bathilda introduced us I had no idea who he was or what he was capable of doing. His ideas entranced me. A world where we wizards would rule over the inferior Muggles and bring them to heel. Our power was to be the right by which we ruled."

Dumbledore gave a deep sigh, suddenly appearing as old as he truly was. Snape could feel the sorrow and remorse in the old man before him. He dare not speak, not do more than breathe as he heard Dumbledore's sordid affairs finally given light. "We spent an entire summer scheming evil plots and dreaming of domination and supremacy. I never told Grindelwald of my rituals. They were mine and only mine to keep. I was able to give him ideas, indeed his banner 'For The Greater Good' was my first contribution. I suggested that if he were to explain that Wizarding Rule wasn't about our exploiting our power, but rather our promoting the greater good of all then many who might oppose us might instead flock to our cause. We decided to rule the Muggles for their own good."

Dumbledore's smile now was rueful. He seemed so uncharacteristically human to Snape at that moment. "We hit the proverbial wall when my younger brother confronted us. He was shouting about how we couldn't go galavanting off on a crusade against Muggles with our younger sister in the state she was in. I scoffed but before I could explain Grindelwald had hit him with the Torture Curse."

He paused at Snaped muted gasp, looking at his face gravely. "Yes, my dear friend used the Cruciatus Curse on my own brother. Something in me snapped back into place. I drew my wand, forcing Grindelwald to relinquish his curse and face me. We dueled, back and forth we went with bangs and flashes and shouts filling my home. They alerted my sister, who came running in to the room. She tried to help my brother, but somehow a stray curse hit my sister. Grindelwald fled when I turned to help my fallen family. The damage had been done though, my brother lay twitching upon the floor. My sister - my poor, sweet, innocent sister - had died."

Tears ran down the lined face and into the long white beard now. "It was my fault Severus, all my fault. I was supposed to be the keeper of her and my brother. She was in poor health most of her short life, and in my obsession with power I had neglected to care for her properly. She lost her tentative grip when the spell struck her. I was devastated, as was my relationship with Aberforth. We had no contact while I arranged her funeral. Her death was attributed to her poor health. People were sympathetic, feeling I had tried to take on too much. I knew the truth, and so did my brother. Aberforth - in the greatest throes of grief - struck me at the funeral."

Dumbledore slumped slightly and continued,"After, when everyone had left, we had a real fight for the first and last time. He yelled things as we rowed, horrible truths I had been ignoring in my bid for greater power. His simple views were stronger in their purity than any one of my half-hearted reasonings. He screamed at me about how disgusted our parents would be with me. I heard his arguments, his words tearing at me like wounding blows. When he left me there in our empty house, that home I had shattered, I stared at my reflection. I saw the brightness in my eyes, the slightly paler skin I had gotten from doing so much studying during the days as well as an effect of those rituals I had foolishly performed. I saw a man who could rule the world and make it in his own image. A man who had broken laws, stolen from fellow human beings and used it to strengthen himself. A man who was about to become the next Dark Lord." Dumbledore paused, but his voice grew in volume and strength, "I shattered the mirror with my fist. I broke that image, and decided to use my stolen gifts for bettering the world. I took my brother's words, so profoundly unapologetic, and made them my new creed. I wanted to be a part of this world; a world I would not rule, but would live in while working towards true peace without ever trying to take a position of power. I returned to Hogwarts. First to study as a scholar, then to teach. I figured that sharing my knowledge and insight would help repair my damaged soul. I never made a bid for power, even after I bested Grindelwald and most of Britain as well as Western Europe clamored for me to take the top job. I knew that I had found my place in the quiet educating of the next generation."

Dumbledore's deep voice was at its normal volume now, his eyes burning with a bright inner fire, "My weakness Severus, is power. The pursuit of it, the possession of it, and the wielding of it made me crave more. My desire to be the greatest, cleverest, and most powerful wizard is my worst aspect. It is also what allows me to make the statement: I understand your situation. I know what you are feeling, what you're going through. I know because I have gone through the same thing. However, you are not as cowardly as I was." He added to the flabbergasted Potions Master, who blinked slowly once. He gathered his wits quickly.

"Why have you told me this Albus? Why now?" Snape's slightly widened eyes were still full of shock, but also measures of curiosity and a touch of disbelief. Dumbledore smiled at him.

"To show you Severus that I am at heart a man who has made mistakes. A man who has confronted his own weaknesses. A man humbled enough now to admit those mistakes. Do you know why I never sacked you after Voldemort (Snape let out a faint hiss, but didn't interrupt) fell?"

Snape stared at Dumbledore evenly and with no trace of guilt, "Because as your pet Death Eater I still was of value to you."

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "I kept you because I felt a kinship with you. We both suffered losses early in life, we both saw the error too late, and we both turned from the darker path. I wanted to help you save yourself. I wanted to help redeem you. In doing so, maybe helping redeem myself as well."

"Know this though Severus," Dumbledore warned the man across from him. Snape looked as though he had recovered a bit from Dumbledore's proclamations, but his countenance changed to a look of apprehension. The air grew thick in the dungeon classroom, and a small bead of perspiration ran down Snape's face, "I will not tolerate any more death. If you will do things your way so be it, but this year I will be making changes." The pressure lifted quite suddenly, and Snape took an involuntary deep breath.

Dumbledore strode towards the door, pausing when he was beside Snape to say, "No more favoritism or cruelty. I will be watching you Severus, lest we both need to make more hard choices."

TMoD

Saturday morning Harry woke early. He lay in his warm, comfortable four poster bed for a moment as he thought of the repercussions of what was to come. Harry knew that whatever happened at the Ministry in a few hours would decide how his whole future played out. It was starting to bother him. He lay there, wondering why they had to make a spectacle of him. His frustrations mounted higher like the sun rising outside the dormitory window. By six o'clock he couldn't handle the pit of twisted anxiety and irritation that only deepened even as he went about his morning routine.

Fifteen minutes later he was crossing the common room in his school robes and a pair of shoes he'd magically restored with a charm. They were still worn, but were very clean and the nicest he had. He really should pick up muggle clothes, he knew he looked pretty ragged in Dudley's cast offs. Feeling self-conscious on top of his other worries only made him more ready for this whole thing to be over with. By half past he was nervously munching some toast. He had barely been sitting for five minutes at the Gryffindor table when a soft whoosh and a light pressure on his shoulder heralded the arrival of Hedwig.

"Hullo girl," he murmured to her, reaching up to stroke her feathers. She nipped his finger affectionately before giving him an inquisitive stare with her amber eyes. "I'm just feeling a little pressure about this hearing. There's so much that I have no say in. It reminds of the Dursley's. I lived with them before we met, Hedwig," He told her in reply. Her eyes seemed to soften and she gave a quiet hoot in response. "Yeah, the ones who were treating me like a piece of garbage. I hope that whatever happens I end up somewhere better than that." Hedwig gave him a reproachful look and spread her wings wide in a gesture that plainly said, _What about me? _"Thanks Hedwig, I'm glad you're here for me." He smiled at the owl, who blinked benignly back As she folded her wings in again.

"Blimey Harry, I've never seen an owl do that. She must be incredibly smart." Harry and Hedwig turned their heads in unison to see Neville on the opposite side of the table. He looked drowsy and awed at the same time. Harry thought the combination made the round faced boy look slightly like he had been struck on the head and was marveling at the color of the sky or something.

Hedwig preened herself, apparently basking in Neville's praise. Harry asked the first thing on his mind as Neville sat down, still eyeing Hedwig with interest. "What are you doing up so early?"

Neville yawned wide before answering, "Gran wanted to take me somewhere this morning. Wouldn't tell me where though." Harry looked slightly confused at this pronouncement. Madame Longbottom was going to be petitioning at his hearing, so why would...

And it came to him: Neville was her ward. She was bringing him along to the hearing this morning. He looked over at the Hufflepuff table. Sure enough, he saw the long red hair of Susan Bones braided down her back. He shufted his eyes to the Slytherin table. There was the pale, pointed face and white blonde hair of Draco Malfoy. Harry could've kicked himself for not expecting this. Of course the children of the prospective guardians would be present!

Something of his emotions must've shown on his face, because he heard Neville's concerned voice ask tentatively, "Harry are you feeling all right? You look a bit off."

Harry returned his attention to Neville. Neville, who may be something of a brother in a couple hours time. He asked him slowly, trying not to let his frustrations get the better of him, "How much did you hear when I was talking to Hedwig?"

Taken by surprise, Neville answered slightly nervously, "Only that you were glad she was there for you. Why? Is something wrong? Can I help you Harry?"

Harry saw that even though Neville looked and sounded as though he were incredibly anxious that he honestly didn't hear and really did want to help. Some of the anger dimmed by the gratitude he felt rush through him at Neville's offer, Harry decided to tell his friend. He explained about the hearing and his feelings of frustration with his lack of involvement in the whole affair.

"The worst bit though," Harry said, winding down, "is that I don't know any of these people but they think they know me because of something that happened when I was a baby! I mean come on, we both know that I grew up with Muggles for the last ten years. How could they expect to know anything about me?"

Neville sat silent for a moment. His friendly round face was sympathetic. "Harry, I know it's not fair, and that would make me pretty mad too."

Talking about it had made Harry feel a bit better. Hedwig was still on his shoulder, and gave it a reassuring squeeze before heading off to the Owlery for a spot of rest now he had someone to talk to. The two Gryffindors watched her until she vanished. Neville then said something that Harry hadn't expected, "I am guessing Gran and I are going to your hearing, right Harry?"

Harry nodded, wondering where Neville was headed with this. "I want you to know Harry that whatever happens I'm glad you're my friend. If Gran ends up looking after both of us, well, I'd be happy to have you in my family." He was quite pink and stammered a bit, but Harry felt touched nonetheless.

"Thanks Neville," he said quietly, "and no matter I'll still be your friend. This won't change that."


End file.
